Nightfall
by Dorian Windslasher
Summary: A darker spin on season one where two broken souls desperately cling on to each other as their worlds crumble around them.
1. Welcome to the Hellmouth

Author's note: Before anything else, I need to present you with a warning. The story will feature adult themes. Sex, blood and death will be among them. If such things disturb you, do not proceed.

If not, I hope you enjoy what will be my Big Damn Story. Reviews are adored. :)

* * *

It was a day like any other for Willow Rosenberg. Up early, eat breakfast, shower, brush teeth and go to school with time to spare. But even though she was following the same routines that she had for many years and even though she didn't know it - yet - this was the day where a choice of hers would irrevocably change the course of her life. So far, though, everything was normal. The day was bright and sunny with a light breeze tickling her hair as she walked down the road to Sunnydale High.

She met Xander and Jesse in the courtyard but only had time to exchange a few words with them, seeing as they did not share their first class. Both her friends were ecstatic about the arrival of a new girl, who according to Xander was a hottie. He was probably right - his general taste in girls seemed to make sense. He never cast her a second look, that was for sure. Nor did Jesse. Maybe she was being stupid, especially considering she didn't like them as anything but friends, but was it too much for to ask for them to notice that she had curves (well, some) nowadays?

Settling down in the classroom and retrieving the French books from her bag, she turned her attention to the teacher, who was checking attendance.

She halted after confirming that John Sanders was indeed present and gave her list another look before querying

"Buffy Summers?"

Willow looked to the left and spotted a girl right next to her. A girl she'd never seen before. Blonde, perky and nervous-looking, definitely worth calling a hottie. Conclusion: Probably the new girl.

What kinda name was Buffy, though?

"Present - I mean, yeah."

The next student's name was called and attention slowly shifted back to wherever it had been previously. Not Willow's, though. She noted that the new girl lacked a book.

"Here," she whispered, waving the girl over. "We can share mine."

She felt genuinely proud of herself, not so much for the being nice part as much as the taking initiative and being social part.

"I'm Willow," she went on.

"Buffy." They smiled at each other, tentatively.

"You're new, right?" The blonde nodded.

There seemed to be a response on the way, but their teacher was about to return the tests they had done a week ago, which promptly halted their conversation.

Willow glanced down at her paper, worried like always that she hadn't done as well as expected… But, turning it over, she found A+ written in blue ink, then circled, at the top right corner. She blushed when she noticed Buffy peeking and quickly stowed the test down her bag.

They spoke a bit more over the course of the lesson, but mostly only on the topic of what they were studying. Buffy proved to be okay at French and though her grammar was appalling, her pronunciation was passable and positively adorable.

They moved to history next and the blonde got seated next to Willow again. Their teacher, Mr Finch, checked attendance, marking Xander's and Jesse's lateness with a stern look of disapproval and then moved on to start up a monologue on world war two. It was very obvious when looking at him that he wasn't the kind of teacher who'd allow conversation where conversation was not due. Buffy must have caught this because she didn't attempt to continue their little talk. After a little while, though, Willow spotted a small note on her desk. Making sure she wasn't being watched, she unfolded it and read.

_The guy sure loves his wars, huh?_

She glanced at Buffy, smiled and started writing below the messy hand-writing.

_More than his children, I think. You should've heard him rave about Vietnam._

The blonde grinned in return and passed her the note again.

_I have no idea what he's talking about right now, though Who's Molotov? Isn't that a bomb thingy?_

Willow was about to write back and suggest that she could help her catch up, but Mr Finch choose that moment to direct his stern death ray of a gaze in her direction, which promptly put an end to her note-writing for the duration of that class.

Feeling a bit thirsty as they left the classroom for a thirty minute break, Willow headed to the water fountain and leaned over it. Being busy, she didn't notice Buffy staring at her lips with a distant expression on her face, or Cordelia waiting, hands on her hips.

"Willow… Nice dress! Good to know you've seen the softer side of Sears."

Cordelia, joy…

"Uh, well - well, my mom picked it out." Was there something wrong about her clothes again? She'd stopped trying to appease Cordelia's by dressing fashionably many years ago.

"No wonder you're such a guy magnet. Are you done?"

"Oh." Willow was just about to walk away from the terrorizing when she saw Buffy round on the brunette with a decidedly icy look.

"Hey, I'm just wondering…" The blonde's expression had changed rather suddenly to one of innocent befuddlement. "The tennis clothes." (And even Willow with her limited knowledge about tennis and fashion could tell that was what Cordelia was wearing.) "Is that because it's in fashion right now or because you have your hands on a lot of balls?"

With that, she stalked off, leaving a red-faced Cordelia behind. Not wanting to be near whenever Queen C regained her composure and wits, Willow hastily followed. She found Buffy sitting in the courtyard just outside, still fuming.

"Does she do that to you a lot?" she asked upon spotting Willow.

Willow shrugged and sat down too, a few feet from the blonde. She clearly wasn't happy with the answer she had gotten and kept on waiting until Willow finally confessed.

"She does sometimes. But not just to me, really."

"Not anymore she's not." It sounded an awful lot like a promise, but what could Buffy actually do about it?

"So… What do you do for fun around here?"

* * *

Willow sat by the bar counter, absent-mindedly nibbling on a cherry impaled on a toothpick while she waited for the three Cokes she had ordered to arrive. Xander was sitting in a corner, sulking at being rejected by some girl, and Jesse was dancing up closer to Cordelia and was thus well on his way to be shot down, as well.

They'd known each other for over ten years now and so far it had always been like she was one of the guys. It wasn't all that bad. Most of the time she preferred it that way, but she did wish that someone would notice. It was silly and insecure, of course, but as she thought it over, maybe those two character traits described her well.

It had even reached such levels of sad that she played with the thought of showing up dressed like Cordelia. But there was no way she'd be able to pull that look off. Her mom always said she thought her little girl was beautiful, but it wasn't like she was naïve enough to trust her on that. Still, it'd be nice if someone saw that she was something else besides the shy bookworm. Someone confident and beautiful, even, like B-

"Hey, Willow." Speaking of the devil… Startled, Willow almost knocked over the drinks that had arrived without her noticing.

"Hi!"

Eyebrows raised, the blonde regarded the cups on the counter. "Getting boozed up?"

"What? No, it's just Coke." Catching the playful smile on Buffy's lips a bit too late, she realized it had been a joke. "It's for Xander and Jesse."

Both her friends were wallowing in self-pity by the sofas now and she was in no mood to join them in the probable bashing of her gender.

Xander seemed to have recovered somewhat, though, and was waving, no doubt for Buffy's benefit.

"Your boyfriend?" the blonde wondered. Willow grimaced, then sighed.

"I think he's still wondering why I'm not in the boy's locker room before P.E."

Buffy was sweet enough to actually try to look surprised by that.

"He's blind, then," she stated after a few seconds. "C'mon, let's go open up his eyes." With that enigmatic comment and a small smile, she led a confused Willow to the dance floor.

"Is he looking?" Buffy asked loudly. Willow checked and nodded in confirmation.

And then they started dancing, Buffy moving closer and closer until their bodies kept brushing against one another's . To be honest, Willow didn't know what to make of the close contact, she just knew that Xander was staring openly and that it felt really good.

"Still looking?"

Trying to ignore how great the other girl smelled or how the hot breathing against her ear made Willow shudder and feel really warm, she nodded again. Spinning them around, Buffy took a look for herself.

"Mm-hmm. Eyes, among other things, bulging out," she remarked. Willow giggled. "Go get em', dancing queen. I'll be right back."

She disappeared up a staircase and with her head spinning, Willow all but tumbled into the couch in between Xander and Jesse, who were both staring at her in awe.

"That was so hot!" Jesse exclaimed. Success.

"How did you pull that off?"

"Man, that girl is yummy."

Willow shrugged, starting to feel disappointed. They hadn't noticed her at all, they'd been too busy drooling over Buffy. Not that she wasn't worth drooling over, of course -

Hang on. Freeze, backtrack and press frickin' play again. Why was she checking out her new friend? Her new female friend.

Sighing, she excused herself for some fresh air, needing to give all these new insights some thought. She was completely unaware of the creature stalking her, and the panicking slayer two levels above trying to make her way down to them.

Leaning against the cleanest part of the dingy brick wall she'd been able to find, Willow took in the cold night air with relish. She had only closed her eyes for a second and then it was there. It looked human, but it's face was deformed around the forehead and nose. The eyes were a bright yellow colour and the teeth long and sharp.

Willow tried to scream, but a hand at her mouth quickly muffled the sound. She tried to fight, but the thing was much too strong. All she could do was watch, as the long canines got closer and closer to the skin of her throat.

There was a flurry of movement and then, out of nowhere, Buffy was there. She grabbed the thing by the throat, one-handed and threw it almost two yards across the street into a pair of dustbins.

"Are you okay?" Behind her, the thing was getting up, shaking it's head gingerly, but Buffy was busy giving her neck a thorough look.

"I'm fine. Look out!" The thing had tried to jump at the blonde from behind, but stopped dead in mid-air when Buffy's foot caught it in the chest with bone-crushing force. Wasting no time, she got on top of it and jammed something into it's heart, which promptly disintegrated the entire body into dust. Standing up, she grabbed Willow by the arm and proceeded to lead her back towards the entrance to the Bronze.

"Buffy, what's-?"

"Shh. I think there's more of them around."

"And what are they - that? Besides someone really needing to visit the dentist!"

They stopped ten feet shy of the large man standing guard, Buffy looking seriously at her. She seemed so much older now, more mature and very much in control. "Please Willow. Stay here. I'll explain everything later." She gently led Willow inside and grabbed her by the shoulders. "I'll be back in an hour to take you home. Whatever you do, don't go anywhere with anyone."

The following hour was the longest of her life. She couldn't find Jesse or Xander and she needed answers. Or rather, needed an explanation, because she already knew what was going on. She had been attacked by a vampire and then seen a skinny little blonde kick it's ass. If it wasn't for the fact that she hadn't gotten to even touch her drink she would have reasoned that someone had drugged it.

When Buffy returned, she was sporting a shiner and a torn sleeve. She waved Willow over, lingering in the shadows where people wouldn't see the injuries unless they paid close attention.

"Have you seen Xander and Jesse?" Willow asked as soon as they were outside. Buffy shook her head and set off.

There was a slight limp to her step. She wouldn't answer any questions that night, other than to tell Willow that yes, it had been a vampire and to say that she had killed two more during the hour she had been gone. Finally, she had asked Willow to meet her the following morning and promised to explain everything then, if she was still interested in hearing it.

There was no answer at Xander's that evening. This wasn't all that unusual, though. Xander wouldn't wake for anything other than World War Three, and his parents would most likely have fallen asleep on the couch (Or possibly on the floor) long ago.

Jesse's parents answered, but said he hadn't gotten home yet. It was midnight.

Willow barely got any sleep that night, but dutifully went to school the next day all the same, needing to know. Struggling to stay awake during the first lesson, let alone pay attention to teachers, she kept shooting glances at Buffy, whose bruises were seemingly gone and who scribbled lazily on a piece of paper.

When the bell finally rung, Willow caught up with the blonde and wordlessly found herself being led to the library. True, it wasn't the most popular hang out spot at Sunnydale High, but it was quiet and Mr. Giles, the librarian would be there. Surely there had to be a better place…?

"Bu-" Upon spotting Willow, the Englishman cut off and cleared his throat. "Miss Summers. Miss Rosenberg. What can I do for you?"

Buffy cast him an impatient look. "You can cut the act, Giles."

"Some stupid vamp last night decided to finish his evening with something sweet." She issued at Willow, who managed a few vowel sounds and then felt a strong urge to go away.

Giles seemed to measure Willow up with a look and then nodded. "Very well, then. Are you alright?"

To be honest, she didn't even know what to say. Her safe little bubble of a world that revolved around her studies and few friends had been shattered brutally. She hadn't adjusted yet. In the end, she was saved the bother of formulating a reply, though, as Buffy stepped in.

"I dusted two vampires by The Bronze and one at the Restfield cemetery. The last I saw of her friends was chatting with this blonde girl - Could you get me that book, The Red List? I think I saw her in there before."

Willow could see Giles looking intently at the young blonde. Then, with an "Oh dear", he vanished into the stacks. When he returned a minute later, he was carrying a dusty old tome, which he handed to Buffy.

She flipped through the pages and being curious by nature, Willow couldn't help but to glance over her shoulder. It didn't take long for her to wish she hadn't, though. The book contained detailed descriptions of horrible acts of cruelty done by vampires throughout the ages. One had apparently fancied torturing people with rail road spikes. Then, at the end of the volume, Buffy stopped at a picture of a pretty blonde woman in an 18th century style dress.

"Darla," she whispered softly. Snapping the book shut, she put a hand at Willow's shoulder, who took this to be a bad sign. Giles got seated on the other side of the table, gave the library doors a quick glance and then addressed the two girls with a look of a man preparing to walk across burning coal.

"Perhaps it would be wise to hope for the best whilst preparing for the worst?"

Willow swallowed and blinked away the few tears that threatened to appear. She knew very well what the librarian meant, even if he didn't say it. In all likelihood, Xander and Jesse were dead.

"Has Buffy taught you anything about - er - vampires?"

"Run like crazy?" she suggested lamely, her mind busy showing her a reel of images, all gruesome depictions of her two best friends' dead bodies.

"A wise approach," Giles concluded. "When a person is turned into a vampire, the soul leaves the body and a demon takes it's place. It's essentially a shell that remembers it's past life, but the demon is in control. It is vital that you understand this, that they are not who they were, but what killed them."

Willow was crying softly now, unable to keep it back any longer. Buffy put a compassionate arm around her shoulder and through the tears fogging up her vision, she could see Giles looking guilty.

"I apologize if I came across too harshly. Buffy, perhaps it would be best if you give her the rest of the introduction to the undead."

Willow didn't see, but assumed the blonde had nodded in confirmation, for the man disappeared, leaving them alone. Buffy kept running her hands over the back of her neck. It felt nice.

"I'm sorry," she whispered finally.

"Do you think they're-?" She couldn't bring herself to actually use the word "dead".

"I don't know- They might not have gone with her. Maybe we'll see them at PE."

Willow nodded numbly. Buffy tried to sound as though there was hope, but it didn't feel genuine.

"You - you don't have to be afraid, okay?" Vampires can't enter any house owned by humans unless they've been invited first. You kill them by decapitation, with fire or by putting something made of wood through their hearts."

Willow nodded again. Abandoning the gentle caress, which the redhead found herself missing, Buffy put a stake, a crucifix and a bottle labelled Holy Water on the table. Standing up, she took the stake and put it in Willow's trembling hand.

"Put it against my heart," she instructed.

Nervously, the redhead complied, careful not to do too much inappropriate poking with the piece of pointy wood.

"Good. Run it through there and you've got nothing but a nice pile of dust left for company." She glanced at her wrist-watch and went wide-eyed. "We're almost late." She stowed all the items in her bag at dazzling speed and set off at a brisk pace. "I'll tell you more later, okay?"

They rushed to their lockers, got their bags and actually made it to the locker rooms with a few minutes to spare, even if Willow was panting with exertion as a cost.

Generally, she would change a row or two away from Cordelia and her perfect little friends, but Buffy actually went as far as taking the row furthest away where not even the fat girls would bother hiding from the looks and snickers. At first Willow didn't get it. Was it out of consideration for her? Or did the blonde possibly still have bruises from the night before?

Then the she pulled her shirt over her head and answered that question. The first thought to strike Willow once she was done with the staring part was that the girl really put the "buff" in Buffy. She looked like a professional athlete, but better - much better. Her body was pretty much only muscle, by the looks of it. Nothing extreme like those Ukrainian athletes on TV or anything, but definitely impressive… and kinda sexy.

"Sorry," Willow mumbled, cheeks flaming up even worse.

Buffy didn't say anything.

Buffy's encouragement about her friends showing up for gym had lit up a small sparkle of hope in Willow, but they never did. Even less motivated than she usually was, she got hit in the head by a football and spent the rest of the lesson holding a ball of toilet paper to her bleeding nose. Nose still throbbing somewhat, she followed Buffy to their isolated corner of the locker room, getting undressed so slowly that by the time she had the clean white towel wrapped tight around her, the others were already on their way to their next class, unaware and chattering happily.

Maybe she was being pessimistic, but some part of her was just sure that her friends were gone. As silently as she could manage, Willow started sobbing under the hot spray of the water. Wailing pained, meaningless words at the clinker wall, she hit it with small fists until her arms were seized from behind. Soon, she had been spun around and pulled into a decidedly feminine embrace.

"Shh… You'll hurt yourself." It was Buffy, of course. There wasn't anybody else left in the place.

"Wanna…" She struggled, but got nowhere, only tighter into Buffy's warm comforting arms.

"It's gonna be okay."

"No it's not."

"Yes- it is."

"When?" Willow wanted to shout, but didn't. She couldn't find the energy to do anything but bawl.

It wasn't until she stopped, over forty minutes later, that Willow realized the position she was in. She hadn't thought about it, but it was lucky that the lunch break followed this period or they would've had a class full of other girls filing in and interrupting them long ago… Which would've been somewhat embarrassing. The hot water was still running and she was looking up at the blonde, resting her cheek against her bosom.

"Sorry," she mumbled awkwardly, pulling away. This, of course, did not help things the slightest as she was now brutally reminded of just how naked they were. "Didn't mean to drool all over your- Er." She blushed and pointedly shut her mouth.

Buffy let out a snort of a laugh and helped Willow back on her feet. Willow reached for her towel and hastily wrapped it around her body.

"What are you?" she asked Buffy abruptly as they slowly got dressed.

The blonde frowned and Willow murmured an apology. The lack of response was making her nervous, worried that she had insulted her new (and possibly only) friend. She was about half a second from starting up in full babble-mode when the question received it's answer.

"I'm a vampire slayer."

This did not leave Willow feeling any wiser.

"There's always one. When one dies, the next is called." Willow felt rather guilty for the way she must've looked at Buffy when the blonde added. "I'm human - just - a bit different

"Wow." Was the extent of what Willow managed in response.

"Yep."

"So, you're, like… a superhero?" Sighing internally, she thought she'd really spent too much time as a member of the dork squad.

Buffy nodded. "With heightened senses, strength and speed - and with an average life expectancy of one year, six months, fourteen days, and three hours. Give or take."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Minus the stupid spandex."

One and a half years… That wasn't much. Willow felt like maybe she should comfort Buffy, but the other girl seemed calm enough and there was still some lingering embarrassment since the showers.

They left the building in silence, moved to the front of the school and got seated on the lawn under a large tree.

"You can't tell anyone," Buffy said after a little while, looking ahead, hands folded in her lap. "The police might want to talk to you. Don't mention vampires."

"'Cause they'll think I'm cuckoo?"

"Yep."

Drawing another deep breath, Willow lunged at the question she had been holding clutched tightly to her chest to her chest since the moment she had been told of the probability that her best friends were now vampires:

"Can I help?"

"No." The reply was immediate and sharp.

"But - "

"No."

"Xander and Jesse are - were - my best friends! If there's some _thing _using their bodies I owe it to them to stop it."

Buffy turned her head and gave her a sharp look. "You have no idea how lucky you were last night! That vampire might just have killed you, had it over and done with quickly. Or he might have felt like going extra-curricular, taken you to his friends and raped you half to death before either turning you or killing you!"

Willow jumped back a bit in fright at the harsh tone in the slayer's voice. "I'm sorry, Buffy. I didn't mean to-"

"No, I shouldn't have gone off like that." The blonde gave her an apologetic look. "It's just that you have no idea what I deal with every night. I don't have a choice in this, but you do…"

"It's too late," Willow whispered softly. "I can't close my eyes and hide under my bed, hoping for everything to go away, 'cause it won't. I- I can help you."

Buffy's eyes darkened again and her hand shot out and gripped the redhead's throat firmly. "Help? You'll die. If I squeeze just a little bit, you choke. What are you going to do about it? What if I were a vampire? Do something!"

For effect, she tightened the grip enough for it to actually constrict Willow's breathing a little. It was hard to concentrate with the adrenaline pumping through her. Willow fumbled a shaking hand into a pocket, pushing it to the very bottom in search of the item she needed, a gift received from her grandfather at her Bat Mitzvah.

Pushing the keys aside, she finally found the object which she sought, a Swiss army knife. Folding out the blade, she nervously put it, blunt-side, to the slayer's throat.

"Good," Buffy whispered softly, letting go. "Okay."

"Okay?"

The blonde sighed, but smiled despite herself.

"I think so. Just… Give this some thought, OK? Sleep on it or whatever, just- You're gonna get hurt."

"Alright." Willow had already decided, and when she set out to do something, she always did it all the way. But for Buffy's peace of mind, she could pretend to think it over. They did not speak about the subject any further that day. A glance at her watch informed her that class would be starting in five minutes. "We need to get going," she pointed out tonelessly.

"You sure, Will? Your friends being missing sorta warrants the day off."

Though she'd like nothing more than to go home, curl up and cry the afternoon away in bed, Willow decisively slung her bag over her shoulder and set off for history. The day dragged on, and having been reminded not to invite anyone in to her house by Buffy, she headed home.

After having a sandwich, she prepared the books she'd need for homework and got down on all fours on the wall-to-wall carpet. She took a few reassuring breaths, then shifted the weight from her knees to rest solely on her palms, braced four inches apart, flat on the floor and the tip of her toes.

Slowly, arms quivering increasingly, she lowered herself towards the floor. Brows furrowed at the strain and with her long red hair hanging in her eyes, Willow managed to get her arms at a ninety degree angle, but fell to the plushy carpet when she attempted to get back up again. With her cheeks tinted red in annoyance at herself, she shifted to her knees instead of her toes and finally managed to get a few push-ups done.

Her stomach aching along with much of the rest of her body after a couple of sit-ups, Willow settled on her bed with a groan. She would do this every morning, afternoon and evening. If she kept it up, the results would come in time. It'd just take patience and self-discipline, things she had in abundance.

Willow spent three out of the remaining four hours of sunlight studying, and the last one worrying. About Xander, Jesse, herself, Buffy - heck, even Sunnydale.

She tried calling her friends' parents, but none of them had seen their children. Not that Mr. Harris would have noticed, mind - he was so drunk Willow had to ask him repeat himself three times before she understood what on earth he was talking about

With nothing else to do, Willow opened up her most prized possession, a laptop.

Fire, sunlight, stake through the heart and decapitation. Unless artificial sunlight worked, she was out of luck on that count and she doubted that she'd be able to get close enough to shove a stake through skin, muscle and in between bones. She obviously had no sword, save for a lightsabre replica Xander had given her at age ten so they could have epic duels.

That left fire. Fire was easy to make - cavemen far less clever than her had managed it, after all.

Gasoline burned well, and alcohol, too. Unfortunately, their car was gone and if she stole any of her father's single malt scotch, which was older than she was, she'd be grounded until she graduated.

The computer wouldn't yield many good ideas, though. There was something about using hair spray that she decided she'd check out some time, but she didn't have any at home just now so it'd have to wait.

Sighing, she closed her eyes and leaned back on the pillow. The ring of the doorbell woke her up from sleep that had crept up on her slowly and unexpectedly. The clock was now 21:09 and the sun long gone.

Had Buffy already done the deed and come to share the news?

Opening the door, she was surprised at the sight in front of her. Her first instinct was to rush out there and hug him. She even raised her arms to do so before catching herself. Jesse looked different. He was standing up straighter and the smile he bore was calm and confident. "Hey, Will," he greeted her casually. "Can I come in?"

Fighting the tears back, Willow stared at the demon looking like her best friend. She shook her head.

"I can't?" Jesse wondered.

"I don't know. Can you?"

Tilting his head to the side with a good imitation of innocent confusion, Jesse looked at her.

"You're talking crazy talk, Will. I just thought your parents might mind. Is it okay if I come inside?"

"My parents are gone for almost a month and you know that."

They stood in silence for a little while.

"So…" Jesse tried.

"I'm not letting you inside!"

Going from calm to furious, from Jesse to an ugly thing in the blink of an eye, the creature snarled and lunged for her. The outstretched hand stopped short at the threshold where an invisible force seemed to repel it, but Willow recoiled, lost her balanced and fell.

Gingerly getting to her feet, she stared at the demon, who was clawing furiously at the barrier preventing him from entering.

She had to kill it, but how? If she went outside, she was dead. There were no weapons suited to do the job…

The answer to her question arrived in the form of a lithe blonde, landing clumsily with a thud behind Jesse.

There was a poof and Jesse vanished in a explosion of dust. Willow tried hard not to cry, but was quickly distracted when Buffy took a step forward into the light and became visible more clearly.

"Oh, God," she whimpered, catching herself wanting to rush out the door the second time that night.

Buffy's left eye had taken a nasty hit and had swollen up so badly it was doubtful whether she could see with it at all. Both cheeks were badly bruised, her throat had been clawed at and there was a shallow cut on her forehead which had dripped blood all over her face.

As the slayer limped the last few steps across the porch, Willow also spotted a small bloodstain under a long gash on Buffy's shirt in the area of her belly button.

"Hey, Will," the slayer said, grinning. "Do you think I could crash here tonight? Mom doesn't know." The smile was wrong somehow, and Willow could tell the slayer had difficulty focusing on her.

"Sure, of course, come in." The reply was automatic and she went pale (well, paler) when she realized what she had done.

Buffy didn't step forward, but clumsily navigated her hand inside her shirt to reveal a silver cross. "It's still me," she said, displaying her non-smoking palm to Willow, who stepped aside to admit her. But the blonde did not walk inside, but dashed to the right instead, fell to her knees and promptly vomited into her mother's rhododendron bush.

Despite promising to stay inside, Willow hurried across the lawn and settled next to the slayer. "Are you okay?" she asked, feeling slightly stupid. Clearly, she wasn't.

"Bastard gave me a concussion," Buffy moaned, before throwing up some more.

"D'you think you can move? 'Cause, sitting out here, not such a good idea right now."

The blonde nodded and managed to get to her feet.

"Good." Willow put her arm under the slayer's and began to lead her back in the direction of the house. "I'll help you to the toilet in case - " She left the sentence unfinished.

When Buffy was finally feeling a bit better- well, when she was done throwing up, anyways, Willow got her seated in her bed and put on some up-beat music. Unless she was mistaken, and all modesty aside, she rarely was, a person who was concussed wasn't supposed to sleep right afterwards. They needed some caffeine, but that could wait a little while.

"That book you read, where you found that picture, what exactly is it about?"

Buffy didn't respond at first, staring into space as she seemed to try to collect herself. Then, she shook her head a bit like a wet dog and apparently regretted it judging by how she winced.

"It's a list- a list of the baddest of the bad among vampires."

"What happened to you tonight?"

"Vampires - loads. Giles didn't have time to explain… He's in the hospital- there were so many of them - I don't know if he's gonna make it."

She was looking down at her hands, curled up into tiny fists in her lap.

Willow did try to keep Buffy up as long as possible that night and even brought some soda in hopes of keeping the exhaustion at bay, but what with getting very little sleep the night before and having a very tiring day, it didn't last.

She woke up late the next morning, feeling almost at once that something was out of place. She was fully dressed, for one thing, and her pillow felt strange. Cracking an eyelid open, she quickly caught up with what was going on. They must've fallen asleep without realizing it and then, sometime over the night, she had decided to use Buffy as a pillow. Thank goodness the blonde was still asleep. Putting some distance between them, she poked her new friend in the shoulder.

"Buffy?"

The blonde shot out of the bed as though it was on fire and stood there, muscles taut across her lithe body, looking at Willow and then the room as though wondering how the hell she had gotten there. Finally, she sighed and sat back down on the bed, avoiding eye contact.

"I'm sorry about your friends," Buffy whispered guiltily after a while.

Tears threatened to make an appearance, but Willow fought them back once more. It wouldn't do any good. A part of her wanted to blame Buffy for all the things that had happened in her life ever since she had come, but that would have been unfair. If anything, she would've been dead too, had it not been for the slayer being there.

"It's okay," Willow lied softly. It really, really wasn't.


	2. Teenage Drama and Vampire Slaying

Having convinced Buffy to rest a little bit longer utilizing the irresistible (And according to certain whiny slayer, highly unfair) power of puppy-dog eyes, Willow got down to the bottom floor and did her morning exercises. Having completed them, she went into the kitchen. Fifteen minutes later, she carefully manoeuvred a wooden tray with a breakfast of toast and a botched omelette turned into scrambled eggs up the stairs. Buffy devoured her food in less than a minute and then lay down on the bed again, watching Willow finish hers.

"You're, like, the best friend ever," she declared after a while, patting her own belly. If her eyes hadn't drifted shut lazily at that moment, Buffy might have spotted the red-head's bottom lip quiver.

After the breakfast had been eaten, Buffy called home and checked in, getting cleared to stay a bit longer. They showered - separately, of course. How else would they shower? Well, they could always- No! Stupid pervy brain.

Afterwards, they got seated on the living room sofa, where Buffy told the story of the previous night.

"I started out waiting in Xander's garden for a while…"

* * *

Buffy shoved her hands into her pockets as she set down the sidewalk heading to Jesse's. It wasn't very far. Staying at Xander's had been a total bust. It wasn't even eight o'clock and his parents were already in a minor coma from drinking. Knocking hadn't roused them and she'd reasoned that they wouldn't notice Xander either, even if he did show.

She stopped walking abruptly and went rigid. Someone was running across the street towards her. The figure passed under a streetlight and she realized it was Giles.

"Buffy," he greeted her between desperate gasps for breath. "There is a situation. It is imperative that you come with me."

Buffy cocked her head to the side with a blank look on her face.

"It is what that I go where?"

"There is a ritual performed by a master vampire marking one of his minions." He showed her a mark which made Buffy think of Mercedes cars.

"I've done some research on this place and found out that there's a vampire - a very old one called The Master - trapped beneath this city. He must be attempting an escape. My source told me that they plan to hit that god-awful club from the other night."

"Oh. Okay."

The guards who usually stood outside The Bronze not rejecting under-age people were nowhere to be seen and the doors were shut firmly.

Buffy gave them a glance and shook her head in the direction of Giles' expectant look.

"I'm a slayer, not a terminator. I can't break this down."

She heard him mutter a few very British curse words, and then he reached out for one of the bobby pins she had in her hair, fiddled with it and put it in the lock. A few seconds of awkward manoeuvring later, a click issued from the door and it opened up.

"You're telling me about that later," she mouthed at him, sneaking inside with her stake at the ready.

Ten minutes later, she staggered across the floor trying not to trip on the many bodies.

There had been a stag party of some sort here and every single guest, including the caterers, the band and the stripper, were dead.

Buffy had managed to take down the grotesquely large and powerful vampire orchestrating the massacre, but many had gotten away. Xander and Darla hadn't been present, as far as she had seen.

Giles had gotten beaten up badly in the tussle and she had dropped him off at the hospital before moving on.

At that point, Willow had wondered aloud why Buffy hadn't gotten herself checked out, too, and blushed furiously upon being told that the slayer had been worried about her.

* * *

They visited the Watcher later that morning, Buffy donning sunglasses and a lot of make-up to cover the bruises, and received his very reluctant blessing for Willow to be allowed to eventually help out with the slaying. The word "eventually" seemed to be key in that discussion, but it was better than a no.

He also promised to attain some heavier weaponry in light of recent events. Willow and Buffy left the him with wishes of a speedy recovery.

Promising to come by later that night, Buffy took off in the direction of her house, leaving Willow to return home in solitude with nothing but her thoughts for company.

As those weren't particularly happy thoughts, she tried to keep busy, first with homework, then food and some more exercising. But when her body ached and there was no more schoolwork to be done for the week, the thoughts came sneaking up on her. Xander, gone… Jesse, twisted into something monstrous, something so far removed from the sweet boy she had known all those years. She thought back on happier times, having movie nights with the both of them, or raging at Cordelia for whatever evil she had been responsible for that particular week.

With tears running down her cheeks, Willow fought to push those thoughts away. There were more important things to devote her attention to just now, like helping Giles and Buffy. After carefully wiping her eyes, Willow started up the computer and got started. She found a basic explanation on making Molotov cocktails, which would definitely be useful. There was also something about hair spray, but she didn't have time to investigate that one properly before the doorbell rang. For a moment she thought of the night before, but the sun was still up. Rubbing her red puffy eyes, she walked to the door.

Buffy was waiting outside with a shopping bag and a brave stab at a smile. "Hey," she said softly. "You OK?"

Shaking her head no, Willow stepped aside.

The bag proved to contain soda, snacks and a silly romantic comedy. They did not discuss vampires, death or fighting at all that night, but rather enjoyed it as any other two teenage girls might have. It felt good to know that they could spend time like that, too.

About an hour in, Buffy had consumed most of the snacks single-handedly and sat back contently. Slayers must have some sort of crazy metabolism, Willow concluded, because there was no way anybody could eat like that and maintain that figure. Unless they did that throwing up thingy Harmony did, of course, but she'd seen no evidence to support that theory so far.

Towards the end, Buffy had drifted off with her head resting against Willow's shoulder. Her hair smelled good - inviting. Not that she tried to smell it or anything. It was a pure coincidence. An accident, even. Really!

Though she had to admit how tempting it was to just fall asleep cuddled up there on the couch next to a warm human body, Willow knew she was just being needy, and thought it might be awkward if it happened a second night. Buffy hadn't mentioned anything about a sleepover, either, so Mrs. Summers would probably worry. Gently, she prodded the blonde's shoulder until she woke

"Whuh?"

"You fell asleep."

"Oh. I'm sorry. I hope I didn't drool on ya."

"S'OK, I- I uh- I didn't mind."

They shared an awkward grin, and Buffy stood up. "Er…I'll be going home, then."

She hesitated, then leaned in and gave Willow a quick hug, and left.

After cleaning up the living room and forcing her tired, protesting body to do the work-outs, she went upstairs and fell into bed, where she lay for hours, tossing and turning. What little sleep she did get was disrupted and thoroughly ruined by a continuous stream of nightmares.

Sunday passed in a haze and Buffy didn't call or visit. Even though she was bored out of her mind, Willow thought maybe the blonde needed some time alone and chose not to bother her. Then Monday arrived and school with it. At least it meant a break in the monotony and a distraction from thoughts she didn't want bouncing around in her head.

She didn't share any classes with Buffy until just before lunch that day, and assumed that was when they'd meet. The blonde surprised her, though, by ringing her doorbell in the morning with her schoolbag ready.

"Hey," she said awkwardly, an uncertain smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

"Hey," Willow replied with about as much bravado.

"I thought… Maybe you'd want company?"

Did she? Willow thought about it for a moment. Not that she'd say no to Buffy, but did she really want company? Yes, she decided. She not only wanted, but needed it. Nodding and forcing a smile in hopes of calming the blonde who must have taken her earlier pensive expression as a bad sign, she grabbed her bag from under the coat-rack and locked the door.

"What's up?" Buffy turned her head to face Willow and her question. They were halfway to the school, and the blonde had been stealing glances every now and then, sometimes with a smile, but had not spoken up until that point.

"Er -Walking with you?"

Right, damn it. Real smooth talking, Rosenberg. There really had to be some topic to have an actual conversation about. Something to delay the inevitable realisation that she was in fact a geek with nothing really interesting going on - oh: idea!

"Have you heard from Giles?"

"Yeah, he was supposed to show today."

"That's good. How're you-?"

"Fine, fine," she said dismissively. "I heal fast, don't worry about me."

But she still did. Even if she didn't dare to admit it.

They had finally reached Sunnydale High and both went quiet as they made their way through the mass of chattering students.

Now that they weren't alone anymore, they couldn't talk about vampires, death or mayhem. Generally, Willow would've thought of that as a good thing, but she wanted to keep the conversation going, to not be the boring bookish girl nobody really liked or noticed. But what mundane topics did they have to discuss, really? Make-up? She wore none. Clothes? Complete clueless. Boys? In light of recent revelations, definitely not. She wasn't interested in any of the things girls her age were supposed to be. She was good at the academic part of life, though. Was there some topic there they could dive into? The French revolution? Probably not…

What also confused her was why she felt the urge to impress. With her old friends it had been more casual. Maybe it had been different when they met; she had been so young she honestly couldn't remember anymore.

Busy with her thoughts, she did not see the fashionably-dressed girl heading her way, fully expecting her to move, and with a thud, they both fell to the floor.

"Hey!"

Oh, dang. It was Cordelia, and she had on reflex tried to grab onto something break her fall, managing to topple a trash barrel and it's content over her new - and presumably expensive - dress.

"Sorry," Willow murmured, not meeting the other girl's eye as she got to her feet with Buffy's assistance.

She could see Buffy offer her hand to Cordelia, too, and that the brunette scoffed, ignored it, and stood up to tower over Willow in all her terrible glory.

"Not that I expect a loser like you to understand, but this is Prada!"

"S-Sorry."

Willow glanced to her left and to Buffy. For help? Maybe. The blonde looked wary and on edge, her steely eyes fixed on Cordelia.

"Sorry's not gonna cut it, pasty-face."

The brunette took a step forward, and went to grab Willow and that seemed to be the step over the line. The events following in response to that happened very quickly.

Buffy moved in between them, grabbed Cordelia's hand and twisted it painfully around behind her back with supreme ease. She leaned in close.

"Walk… the hell… away." The tone of her voice was dangerous, pure venom, and for some reason, it sent chills down Willow's body. Of the very, very wrong and inappropriate kind. Confident that her message had sunk in, the blonde let go of the cheerleader with a light shove.

For just a moment, Cordelia actually looked scared. Then she recovered, sneered at the two other girls, and stomped off. But not before giving Willow a scanning once-over. One that, judging by her triumphant expression a moment later, must have glimpsed her current state of mind.

Anyone with above average observational skills would have seen it, had they not been too busy staring at either the uncrowned queen of Sunnydale High or the one who had challenged her. Willow snapped her gaze away from Buffy, but the damage might already have been done. Cordelia had not said anything, but there'd be a reckoning of some variety, sooner or later, that much was certain.

They went off for their separate classes a little while later and the day continued without much happening on the side of interesting. There was some whispering going on, probably about what had happened earlier. Willow never got close enough to make out any words, but Buffy seemed to hear it just fine judging by the way her fists clenched every time it happened.

Issues with the Cordettes aside, the day progressed pretty much like any other. Classes to attend, things to write down, homework to bring home and complete.

During one of their shorter breaks, which they spent outside in the sunny courtyard, two policemen came by. It seemed that Sunnydale's finest had finally thought the disappearances worth investigating. Sharing a darkly significant look, the two girls began to give their matching stories about not having seen either Xander or Jesse since that night at The Bronze. Buffy went on to mention that she had heard the two of them talk about pulling a thunder road.

She did a good job with the lie they had thought out together and the cops seemed to buy it. They thanked Willow and Buffy for their time and cooperation and left.

Since their schedule hadn't really permitted it, they hadn't visited Giles during the day. They had seen briefly him in the corridors, though, where he had told Buffy in a hushed whisper that the gear had arrived. This meant that as soon as they had finished their last lesson of the day, they hurried over to the library.

Unfortunately, they had to wait for two hours for the rest of the people to clear out. Giles had a theory about the principal disapproving of swords in his school library, and Willow felt that it didn't exactly qualify as crazy-talk to claim that.

When they were confident that they were alone, The Watcher unlocked a sort of cage (Why there was a cage in the library, Willow didn't want to speculate on) and pulled a haphazardly placed table-cloth aside from a chest to reveal the weapons the Watchers Council had supplied them with.

Now, having had two best friends who were boys, Willow wasn't a complete novice as far as swords were concerned. She obviously had no idea how to use them, but names and origins had stuck to her mind just like most things did.

The long, slim curved blade Buffy immediately reached for, she knew to be of Japanese origin - a katana, most likely. It gleamed menacingly in the sunlight, and the slayer quickly began to dance across the library, slashing through the air with grace few other living creatures would be able to mimic. Willow stared at the display with many emotions mixing in a blend of confusing impulses she needed to quench.

Eventually she picked a weapon for herself, a long sword. It felt good in her hand, somehow. Felt right. While she supposed the weight would be a problem at first, she would get used to it. The hilt was large enough for her to grasp two-handed if she wanted to. Since Giles had not been able to get wooden swords for practicing, Buffy decided to give Willow a hand-to-hand session instead.

"The first thing you'll have to remember," she declared, walking back and forth across the open space and looking very intimidating, "is that it takes about half a second for a vampire to snap your neck."

"This means that you ought to stay as far away as you possibly can," Giles supplied.

"Yup, we wanna keep that pretty little neck of yours from being nibbled on. By vampires, at least."

Willow blushed and Giles gave his slayer a scathing look.

"Sorry," Buffy muttered. "My point is, you should try to move around as much as you possibly can, and use the sword to keep the distance."

Willow took what she hoped would suffice as a defensive stance. Buffy did not seem impressed.

"Thumbs out of your hands, for starters."

"Oh - okay."

Having thought this would be fairly simple proved to be an incorrect theory. She learned quickly, even when it came to this kind of stuff, but other complications arose.

"Try to stand like this." Buffy put her hands just above Willow's hips to try to demonstrate how she should position herself to be able to breathe easier.

Rather than making the breathing easier, it left her feeling light-headed and warm. Where had she learned all this stuff, anyways? Did Giles teach her or was it part of the 'slayer package'?

Whoa. Buffy had moved her hands up to just below her ribs now, and was telling her something that she quite frankly wasn't listening to. This just couldn't get any worse.

In retrospect, she shouldn't have thought that and jinxed it, because it really did get worse. A lot worse.

"So, what've you learned?" Buffy asked almost innocently, sitting astride Willow, who lay helpless on her back trying to keep herself from exploding at all the delicious contact.

"Uh… don't mess with a slayer?" God, was she going to stay there forever? She had to get Buffy off her so that she could get off - get out - of here.

The small part of her head not occupied with the problem of getting away from Buffy was trying to answer the question of whether it was the blonde being so close and on top of her, or being held down by her that turned her on so.

They got to their feet again and Willow tried to take calming breaths.

"We'll have to make you a stake," said Buffy, eyebrows scrunched up in thought. "Mine won't work for you. 'cause unless you're a slayer or have a hammer handy and the vamp lies down all nice and quiet for ya, it won't do the job."

She put her hand on Willow's hip, under the shirt and slid it upwards until she met the ribs. Her touch was warm and soft and Willow's breathing quickly escalated.

How did she have such soft hands? Shouldn't the slaying and stuff leave calluses? Or maybe the slayer healing fixed that? Shut up, brain!

Moving up a little further, Buffy tapped the ribs twice.

"Solid bone, see?" That's why the stakes I have are so sturdy."

"So they won't break," Willow supplied, nodding. It was simple physics, really and obviously nobody liked splinters.

"Yepp." She let her hand slip down a bit and Willow shuddered as goose bumps erupted across her skin and her nipples hardened even more. Thank goodness she was wearing the thick woollen sweater her grandma had made her.

She didn't dare look Buffy in the eye, though.

"Here." Fingers pressed against her solar plexus. "You'll need a longer stake, but this is where you should go for. Up under the ribcage. Or..."

She moved closer. Willow could feel warm breathing against her throat and the smell of perfume made her dizzy. The hand slid to her back.

"Or here. The ribs are thinner at the back. You push with all you weight behind it, alright?"

"Mm." Willow nodded and risked a look at Buffy. She saw the slayer nervously lick her lips and a sudden surge of heat flared through her abdomen and down between her legs. Though the demonstration seemed to be complete, Buffy still had her hand in place. They were so close. Unbearably close. All she had to do was to reach out and-

"How goes it, girls?"

Buffy hastily snatched her hand away and looked over at Giles who had reappeared from the back part of the library. "She's a quick learner," she assessed.

Willow took that as her cue to skedaddle.

"I gotta go - study - and shower - I - Bye."

"We still on for tonight?" Buffy asked before she had time to make it out of there. They had discussed hanging out that evening during math class.

"Sure."

Willow had never been so glad to see the school empty, and that was saying something. Her entire body felt uncomfortably hot and tingly. As she walked past the bathroom, she briefly considered going in there to relieve herself. No- She could wait, just a little while longer.

Once past the door at home, she threw the keys haphazardly on the kitchen table (instead of placing them there gently, as usual), not giving a damn that they skidded off it and onto the floor, kicked her shoes off, and almost ran upstairs.

The walk had taken maybe fifteen minutes, and though she had hoped that time would calm her down, it hadn't. It had been time for her mind to go into overdrive, imagining a new version of the practice session as her thighs rubbed together with each step forward. The moment she was inside of her room, she closed the drapes, jumped onto the bed and started to revisit previous trains of thought.

In her imagination, she had been doing a bit better as they spared, but eventually found herself on her back, with Buffy on top.

This time, though, Giles was away - far away - and the slayer was caressing her arms tenderly instead of just holding her pinned.

Willow hastily unbuttoned her pants, yanked the zipper down and plunged her hand inside her soaked underwear with a blissful sigh.

Dream-Buffy was leaning in closer now, whispering something unimportant into her ear before taking it between her teeth to tug at gently. She changed her position so that she lay on top instead of sitting, their bodies in fuller contact as their lips met in a first kiss.

Back in reality, Willow was already increasing the pace of her rubbing fingers and adding some more pressure.

The fantasy escalated quickly, just like things did back on her bed. Soon, Buffy was positioning her leg in between Willow's, bringing forth some truly delicious friction as the kissing grew more and more intense. Dream-Willow was braver too and let her hands drift down to the other girl's ass, feeling and squeezing it.

She was coming to road's end, quick and hard, fingers slipping quickly along wet flesh.

With as clear a picture as she could imagine of Buffy and herself drawn in her head, naked on the floor, bold as brass, with no fear or regret of what they were doing, she pressed two fingers firmly against her clit, unable to keep a soft series of shuddery moans from escaping her lips as the sweet release overwhelmed her.

It took a while to get down from that high and drag herself off to the bathroom to shower away the sweat, most of which hadn't even been caused by the training.

With the confusing haze of lust gone, things were clearer and Willow felt a bit ashamed. Not of what she had done, but rather of what she had not. She liked Buffy, a lot. There was no point in denying that to herself. But if she couldn't even try to make a move on someone, how was she supposed to have the guts to fight off the forces of darkness?

Buffy arrived at ten that night and over the next two weeks, they eased into that routine: after school they'd study as much as they could until all was clear. They'd train, and then after slaying, Buffy would come over and hang out.

She'd mostly be OK, but whatever minor injuries she sustained, Willow always insisted on taking care of. She worried, certainly, but it was mostly a pathetic ploy on her part to get to touch the blonde and feed her mind's gallery with more detailed pictures for private moments later.

Over the next week, she also found out what it was that people had been whispering about. Cordelia must have been preparing it for some time, because she had pretty much everybody in her little gang with her when she met up with Willow and Buffy, who were arriving together to school as per usual.

"Aww, isn't that sweet," was the first thing she said, smirking at them in a way that promised trouble.

For a moment, nobody spoke, but Buffy didn't seem to have the patience to wait for Cordelia to drop whatever bomb she had hidden behind her back.

"What's sweet?" she finally asked tiredly.

"You two, together."

The two sincerely befuddled looks she received in response to that statement didn't seem to convince the crowd at all, and some started snickering.

Buffy recovered first, staring blankly at the cheerleader. "I think you've gotten confused."

"I think not."

'Oh, witty reply Cordelia. Way to go.' That was what Willow wanted to say. She felt that she should be helping her friend out. It was only her being lied about, after all. They were spot on as far as she was concerned, except when it came to the couple thing. But she just stood there, tongue-tied and flustered.

"No, you really don't think much do you? 'Cause if you did, you'd realize just how far out of my league she is."

Willow stared at Buffy in surprise. Out of _her_ league? Was she crazy? Had she never seen herself in the mirror?

"You can keep denying it all you want, girls," Cordelia said victoriously. "But we all know the truth here."

To be honest, Willow almost felt disappointed that her old tormentor hadn't come up with anything better. Hurtful, true, but so very uncreative.

She couldn't be bothered to contradict any of the talk about her supposed gayness.

Nobody would believe her, for starters. But she also felt that actually lying about the matter was wrong. More so than not confirming it, anyways. So Willow kept quiet. She and Buffy kept to themselves even more these days and the other girl didn't show any signs of caring about the talk.

As for their training, they had moved on to using swords, which thank goodness required less physical contact. That meant, at the very least, that the cold showers worked half of the time to calm her down afterwards.

On the downside, Buffy did manage to look even hotter with a sword in her hand.

Willow both loved and hated that.

Though she was used to her parents spending a lot of time away, Willow had to admit she had started missing having them around after a while. Not that she spent a lot of time with them or that they noticed her much when they actually were at home, but she did all the same. Their return could have been timed better, though.

It was nine o'clock in the evening and Buffy had returned from her patrol with her back really sore. Willow, being the good Samaritan that she was, had offered to give her a massage. And that was how her parents found them: Buffy on her stomach with her top and bra thrown on the floor, and their daughter sitting astride her.

"Oh. Hi, Mom - Dad."

Buffy hastily grabbed a pillow to cover herself up with.

"Hello, pumpkin." Her father sounded perfectly calm, but then again, he always was. She only saw him upset when the Lakers played poorly.

"It's late," he went on, tapping the expensive watch on his wrist. "And a school night." And with that, he and her mother left the room and closed the door behind them, but not before casting her a look that clearly stated that they'd talk later.

"Wow - okay, that was embarrassing," Buffy said, though she seemed more amused than startled.

"Good night, Will." She leaned in and gave Willow cheek a quick peck, then grabbed her clothes and left Willow alone with a rapidly-beating heart.

Getting up on unsteady legs, she left the room in time to hear Buffy say goodbye to her parents, who seemed to be waiting on the sofa. She sighed. This wasn't really how she had pictured their return… Might as well get the talk over and done with.

Walking downstairs feeling as though she was marching to face the gallows, she finally settled on the leather ottoman opposite the couch. Her father spoke first.

"I see you've made a new _friend_." There was something about the way he pronounced the word friend that was off, though.

"Yeah," Willow said softly, forcing herself to look up at them. Why was she feeling guilty? She hadn't done anything wrong. Heck, even if she had done all the things she spent a great deal of her alone time picturing doing, it wouldn't have been wrong. "She's new in town."

"And?" Her mother, this time. It was obvious what they were hinting at, so she decided it would just be prolonging this very uncomfortable moment to not tell them.

"She was sore, 'cause… 'cause she's trying out for the gymnastics team, and I was just being helpful and massaging out the ache-ys in her back. 'Cause I'm a good friend. Oh!-also, I gave her some Advil. And you noticed that _I_ was fully-clothed, right? We're not - you know - _girlfriends_."

Her father's smile finally turned warm again, perhaps seeing the humour of the misunderstanding.

"But - " And with that one word, it faded. Willow didn't even know why she had spoken, but suddenly felt she needed to. "I think - I think I'm gay." It felt like a relief to get it out, at last. She sat back and waited for her parents to shower her in their acceptance.

Only they didn't. Her mother stood up abruptly, cast one look at her father, one at Willow, and then left. Her father, whom she had always felt she was closest to, sat in silence for a minute, contemplating something. Was he freaked? Was that why he didn't say it would be alright? That she was his little girl and that he loved her no matter what?

Finally he cleared his throat. "I want you out in twenty minutes."

"But- But- What?" Willow's eyes teared up.

"Twenty minutes," he repeated, his voice hollow and dead serious.

And just like that, he stood and walked away. Almost in an afterthought, he reached into his wallet, fished out a few hundred dollars and put them on the table. For a motel and for food, she immediately understood.

Alone, in every sense possible, Willow sat there stunned. They were throwing her out. Twenty minutes… then what? Would they physically make her leave?

Did it matter? She couldn't stay, that much was made clear - she wasn't welcome. Wasn't wanted.

Willow stared at the money with loathing, almost wishing she could incinerate it with her eyes. But it lay there and she knew she would need it. What else was there? Xander was dead. Jesse was dead, twice. They had seen to that…

"Damn you, Ben Franklin," she muttered under her breath, grabbing the bills in her fist and pushing them carelessly into her jeans pocket.

She spent the remaining fifteen minutes throwing everything essential into her secondary school backpack. (Yes, she actually had two).

Walking downstairs at the last minute, she went into the kitchen, saying her mental good-bye, knowing she probably wouldn't return. That was when she spotted it: her father's bottles of whiskey. Pausing for a moment to find the oldest (and thus probably the most expensive), she finally fished out a bottle of 18-year-old Laphroaig, and took it with her. Once outside the door, she remembered not having packed her toothbrush, but didn't want to go back.

With tears running down her cheeks, she looked down at the bottle in hopes of a solution, uncorked it and took a swig. It was horrible, completely and utterly disgusting, both smelling and tasting strongly of wood. Forcing down the swallow and riding out the wave of nausea that followed, she began to walk down the road. Every now and then she'd take another small gulp of the scotch, reveling in the rebelliousness of it. She only knew where Buffy lived by rough descriptions, so it took her well over an hour to locate 1630 Revello Drive where the mailbox proclaimed "Summers" and the doormat bade her welcome.

Raising the bottle in a toast to the door, she rang the bell.


	3. The Good Fight

The door opened, ever so slightly, and even though it was dark and Willow's eyesight had declined somewhat under the influence of the alcohol, she could still recognize the green orbs observing her.

"Hey, Buff-" the bottle slipped out of her hand and onto the wooden porch with solid a 'thunk'.

Giggling joylessly, she picked it up again.

"I told em and they just threw me out - jus' like that. Threw me… out…"

The slayer tilted her head to the side in confusion, then opened the door wide.

Willow, remembering the whole rule about not inviting anybody in after dark, managed to get inside before losing her balance and falling into Buffy's intervening arms.

"Buffy, honey, what's-?

It was Mrs. Summers. Oh… Bad- Bad badness. Willow tried as well as she could to stand up straight and not sway back and forth. It didn't do much good. Not only did she still hold the bottle in her hand and stink of the scotch it contained, but she was far too drunk and far too inexperienced with the feeling to hide it. And as expected, Mrs. Summers did not seem to be deceived.

"Mom." Mother and daughter exchanged a look that Willow missed. "I'll handle this, don't worry."

"I don't know-" She sounded stern and disapproving.

"Mom, please." There was a touch of sharp urgency to her voice and Mrs. Summers seemed to note it and relent. Tentatively and with gentle fingers, Buffy pried the bottle out of Willow's hand and gave it to her mother.

"Come here, Will. Let's get you to bed."

Bed sounded like a splendid idea. The cold must have kept the exhaustion at bay, because it was hitting her full force now.

With Buffy keeping her steady, Willow let herself be guided up the stairs and into the very girly room she had to assume belonged to the slayer.

She eased Willow down on the bed and then looked seriously at her.

"Did you have an argument with your parents? Is that why you ran off and got drunk?" Her voice grew steelier as she went on.

"I thought you were smart, Will." Now she sounded disappointed. Ouch. "You could have been killed."

"I told them-" Willow shook her head in hopes of gaining some clarity, but the room was still spinning and her slurred words just wouldn't make any sense.

"I told them- about me- and-and- he told me to go."

"Told them what?" Asked Buffy with a touch of impatience.

"That I'm-"

Mrs. Summers knocked on the door before opening it, carrying a bucket in one hand, a glass of water in the other.

She gave Willow a look that was hard to place. Not exactly anger. There was some concern… If only her head could work properly. In retrospect, the scotch had been a very bad idea. When her mother left once more, Buffy looked expectantly at Willow. Had she been sober, she might have had enough imagination to come up with a story, but right now the truth seemed so much simpler, so much better.

"I- I told them that I like girls."

"Oh." Buffy stared blankly at her for a moment.

Please don't freak, please don't freak, please don't freak…

"And they threw you out? Just cause of that?"

Willow shrugged. "Suppose…"

"I'm so sorry."

Buffy leaned in and wrapped her arms around Willow, who the next day really couldn't remember how long the hug had lasted before she had fallen asleep.

* * *

When she did wake up, the hangover fortunately wasn't that bad. The glass of water beckoned her from its place at the bedside table and she quickly drained half of it to quench the thirst in her swollen-feeling mouth. Her stomach felt slightly bubbly and there was a dull throb of a fading headache lingering behind her temple. Willow quickly forgot all of that the moment Buffy walked in, with a beautiful wry smile which left an entirely different sensation in her stomach.

"Mom covered for the morning classes, but we have to be at school in an hour."

Classes. Oh, yeah… Crap. Over the few weeks she had known Buffy, she had already missed more school time than over all the other years put together.

Willow only had some more water for breakfast, still unsure about the prospect of eating. They only had one class before lunch, anyways, so if her stomach calmed down by then, she could try the whole food thing.

Willow could sense Buffy's worried eyes on her for the full duration of the walk to school and tried to keep up the conversation as well as she could and not show the big black void into which her peace of mind had been sucked.

How long would she be welcome at Buffy's? Would she be welcome back at all? The night before she had shown up on their doorstep drunk. As far as first impressions went, that could not have been the best ever.

"Hey."

They weren't quite at the school but already drawing looks from students no doubt curious to see if there was any truth to Cordelia's rumours.

But Willow soon found Buffy's beautiful green eyes beckoning and gladly forgot the gawkers in favour of looking into them.

"It's gonna be alright," the blonde promised softly. They hugged and as always when they did, Willow found it difficult, increasingly so, to let go.

"We'll figure something out." It didn't convince Willow, but it did comfort her somewhat at the very least.

"You think so?" She whispered, resting her sore head against the crook of Buffy's neck, taking in the comforting scent of the slayer's perfume.

"Definitely," the blonde said confidently. "Don't worry, Mom's not gonna throw you out on the streets. Unless you make the drinking thing a habit or something."

Willow made a face. Buffy interpreted it correctly as a, "No way," and they continued to their classes like usual.

* * *

One of the things that genuinely surprised Willow was that the slayer training was coming along great. She hadn't expected to be good at it, but she was. They had been at it for a few weeks now and both Buffy and Giles praised her for how quickly she picked up the different techniques with the blade. She hoped that soon she wouldn't have to wait the few tormenting hours during which Buffy was fighting evil and would instead be able to be out there with her.

Another result of either the training or Buffy's company was that she was getting more self-confident. Not much, but putting herself through the painful exercising somehow brought her closer to herself and even though she knew that Buffy held back, getting a hit in on the slayer was a wonderful rush.

"Willow?"

She ducked a hit from Buffy's padded wooden sword aimed at her head and took a step back to face Giles who had addressed her.

"What's up?" she wondered, wiping the sweat off her forehead as she tried to get her breathing back under control.

The Englishman had been sitting in the small office adjacent to their training area and given them a glance every now and then over whatever paperwork or research was keeping him busy. He waved her inside the room and closed the door behind them.

"Buffy - Er- She told me about your current - predicament on the home front." He sounded stern, anger bubbling under his otherwise calm expression.

"She told you?" Willow repeated, suddenly feeling as though she was shrinking under his gaze.

"Yes. I just thought you should know that if you need a place to stay, you are welcome to use my couch."

"Thanks," she mumbled, embarrassed at having thought badly of him.

"Although…" Willow turned with her hand on the doorknob. "Perhaps it would be wise, if you choose to accept my offer, for you to be discreet with it. A faculty member housing a young girl such as yourself would probably be frowned upon."

There was a humorous twinkle in his eyes and they shared a quick smile.

"Thanks," she repeated softly and left for the other room and Buffy's questioning eyes.

"Nothing," she told the slayer, getting her practise weapon off the table.

They went at it for a little while longer, but the clock ticked on, inevitably leading to that part of the night where they went their separate ways.

"Hey, Will?"

"Yeah?"

They had just finished their session and were stashing the practise weapons when Buffy put her warm hand on Willow's sweaty shoulder.

"I've been talking to Giles - It's time."

"Time?" She hesitantly accepted her sword from Buffy. "Time for what?"

"For you to go with me."

Willow stared at her, clenching her hands on the hilt of the sword so hard her knuckles whitened.

"Wow…" she murmured helplessly. Buffy looked at her seriously and held out a hand to take the sword back.

"If you're not ready, that's totally OK-"

"No!" Willow stepped away. "I'm ready. You're right, it's time."

Was she ready, though? Willow could not help but ask herself that as she walked by Buffy's side down the dark streets of Sunnydale.

"How're you doing?" The slayer whispered softly, causing Willow to jump about a mile into the air.

"Fantastic," she whispered back through gritted teeth, pulling the sports bag she carried her sword in safely back up on her shoulder.

They took a right, off the street and into the graveyard. Willow kept craning her neck and looking over her shoulder for vampires, whereas Buffy walked calmly, senses outstretched.

The first graveyard proved a bust, and the second, too. Despite living there all her life, Willow had not realised just how many graveyards there were in Sunnydale.

On the fourth, she had managed to calm down her ferociously-beating heart a bit and attempted to do as Buffy: reach out and embrace the night, the sounds and smells, to sense the surroundings.

And just as she was, Buffy stopped abruptly. She nodded ahead into the darkness and gave the sign they had agreed upon for "vampire," followed by "two".

Two vampires. One each. Oh god, oh god, oh god. She grabbed the sword and let the bag drop to the ground, hiding the blade as a surprise behind her back.

Buffy did the same, only she kept her sword in plain sight.

The vampires, occupied with their game of poker, were sitting with their backs against a larger crypt, which eliminated the possibility of an ambush.

"Having a picnic, boys?" Buffy quipped, moving subtly to the side so that she and Willow had enough room to swing a sword between each other.

Even from where she stood, she could see that her friend held herself differently in the presence of the vampires. She couldn't put a finger on how, but Buffy exuded a kind of aura that was both frightening and alluring. The vampires must have felt it, too, for they tossed the six-packs of beer aside and got to their feet.

"Lunch," one of them remarked. They must have been of the extra-stupid variety, not guessing that girls carrying swords might not be there by accident.

On her toes and ready, Willow stared down her vampire, who was walking at her without worry.

Buffy was chatting happily away with her vampire as she chopped him to bits, but Willow's seemed to be the quiet type and simply went for her neck - and was subsequently rewarded with a deep cut at the hip.

It bled rather badly and Willow stared at what she had done. Her. A scream of pain let her know that Buffy had once more managed to deal her vampire a blow.

With a wave of confidence surging through her body, Willow bounced up and down on her toes, staying mobile. The vampire seemed less eager to attack now, eyeing the bloody sword with apprehension, and she quickly punished him for his reluctance with a light poke with the tip of the blade to his shoulder.

Baring his teeth and hissing, he jumped at her, arms outstretched high as if he was planning to envelop her in a bizarre and most likely fatal hug.

Willow gripped the sword's hilt with both hands, turned her body sideways and swung the sword into the incoming vampire's stomach as if attempting to hit a baseball for a home run. She didn't manage much of a swing, though. The vampire was coming at her too fast.

But the sharp steel still bit deep, through skin and imbedded itself into the spine, where it stuck. Willow desperately tried to tug it free, but could not. She seized it harder and prepared for another try.

Bang!

Desperately-wounded and striking from a poor angle, the vampire must still have gotten a half-decent hit in. Willow's face exploded in pain and she fell backwards into the grass. Focus, she screamed internally. Get up, ignore the pain and get up. Get up or you're dead.

Feeling the sword still in her hand, dislodged from when she had been thrown backwards, she pushed off the ground. The crotch of her pants was wet and for a moment, she thought she'd wet herself but then realized she'd fallen onto one of the beer cans.

The vampire lay on the ground, moaning in pain and she approached carefully. What if he was playing possum? She glanced sideways, where Buffy stood waiting, all done with her own.

She knew that if she wanted, if she gave even the smallest sign of it, Buffy would come over and finish it off. But she did not want that at all. This was the closest she had gotten thus far to revenge for her friends.

Aiming carefully, she brought the sword down upon the vampire's neck and jumped back as it exploded in a cloud of dust.

"Well done."

Willow had been staring so intently at the spot where the body had been only seconds before, that she flinched when she heard Buffy's voice right at her side.

"T-thanks." It wasn't until she spoke that she realised how badly she was trembling. Holding up her hand in the weak moonlight, she saw that it, too, was unsteady.

"It's the adrenaline," Buffy told her sagely. "How's your cheek?"

"Might need ice," Willow murmured, feeling it gingerly.

The blonde nodded, giving the injury a closer inspection. "Let's go to Giles and get you taken care of."

It wasn't that long a walk and the only difficulty they experienced was sneaking past an old lady walking her dog.

"D'you think he's still up?" Willow glanced nervously at her watch. It showed 11:32 and it was, after all, a school night. Or a work night, in his case. Was there even such a thing?

"He's kind of a night owl." Buffy pressed a casual finger to the doorbell. "Like batman, only less leather. Which is nice, cause - Ew."

"Oh," Willow offered lamely. "Maybe I should stay. He said I could- and I don't wanna barge in on you and your mom forever. And I don't think she'd react well if she saw me all beaten up. Not to mention that beer I fell in…"

The slayer reached up and brushed Willow's hair away from the cheek, trailing her fingers over the bruised skin with the utmost care. She seemed to be about to say something... Then, suddenly, she snatched the hand away again, and a moment later, steps could be heard on the other side of the door. There was a pause, and then it opened up ever so slightly and Giles peered at them through the narrow slit.

"Good evening, girls." He opened the door wider and stepped aside. "Are the both of you alright?"

Buffy answered in a non-committal grunt and went inside in search of something, clearly familiar with the house. Willow, who had never visited before, followed Giles, who showed her to the couch and asked her to sit down.

Her legs felt like lead, so she complied happily.

"Tea?"

"Yes, please."

Buffy, who had been coming with a pack of ice rolled in a towel, gave her a funny look. She settled next to Willow while went Giles went off into the kitchen to put the kettle on, placing the cool comforting package against her throbbing cheek.

"Better?"

"Mm."

Maybe it was a post-slaying thing (or possibly the lighting of Giles living room) but Buffy looked even more radiant now than Willow had ever seen her. Their arms were touching and the blonde discreetly linked the fingers of the hand she wasn't holding against Willow's cheek, giving it a light squeeze.

"Good." Her voice was a soft, husky whisper. They were closer now, too, though Willow honestly couldn't say how or when that had happened. But she was finally able to see the exact colour of Buffy's eyes.

"Would any of you like sugar in your tea? Cream? Milk?"

They both turned to reply to the question, and the moment was lost. Had they even shared a moment, or had she just been staring like a complete idiot at her friend?

When their tea did arrive, Buffy drank hers hastily and left. It was late, after all.

Willow, who really did not want to worry Mrs. Summers with bruises or to disturb them in general, chose to stay.

"Have you given speaking to your parents some thought?"

Giles had gotten seated on the other side of the table in a comfortable chair and was eyeing her carefully over his cup of camomile tea.

"Not really," Willow admitted. It wasn't entirely true. Of course she had thought of it. But she hadn't considered it as an option. Giles set his cup on the table and helped himself to a biscuit before continuing.

"My father disapproved of some of the friends I had in my youth," he said slowly. "Rightfully so, I must add, but things were said and I have not spoken to him in over twenty-five years now."

For a moment he seemed lost in thought, perhaps amazed that it had been that long.

"The situations are not the same, of course, but the outcome… Your parents reacted badly, but perhaps you should give them another chance before dismissing it."

Willow looked down into the dregs of tea left in her own cup for a while, unsure of what to say. She didn't want to go to back to her parents, but then again, she couldn't stay like this for the rest of her life. Maybe her grandma would pitch in for college when she got that far… But her parents were a lost cause.

"Leviticus is all the explanation my parents need," she told Giles with a note of bitter finality. The watcher nodded sadly and collected the porcelain.

They spoke no further on the subject. It was late and with the adrenaline finally receding from her system, Willow felt tired to the bone.

Giles must've realized that was going to happen, because the moment she thought she might need it, he came down the stairs carrying a large warm blanket and two pillows.

For a moment, she worried about not having brushed her teeth, but shrugged it off. Snuggling into the pillow not under her head wishing it was a certain blonde girl, Willow fell into a fitful sleep.

* * *

_Elsewhere_

The Master looked over his clasped clawed hands into the beautiful face of his favourite and eldest living childe as she seated herself at the table.

She had brought her own childe (As was her right), a youth she had turned only a couple of weeks ago. Privately, he hoped he'd turn out to be less of a disappointment than that whelp Angelus, though word had it that he had met the Final Death only a few days ago. Observing the dozen occupied chairs in front of him at the table, The Master rose from his seat. All eyes were on him.

"What news on the situation at the docks?" He asked Darla, who he had assigned to the task.

"We own it," she declared proudly. "The locals who had a stake in it have been taken take of - discreetly, as you asked."

"Excellent. Through it, we will control the Orpheus trade, among many other interesting

businesses. Once the revenue starts flowing, this town is ours."

He could see the fledgling, Xander, cast Darla a look. She, in turn, cast him one. He nodded, and Xander stood. At least he knew his place. That was one important thing if one wished to survive the eternal night.

"The slayer- I know the girl she's hanging with. I could help set up-"

The Master held up his hands for silence, and it fell immediately.

"Listen well," he said, addressing the entire room. "The slayer is to be avoided at all costs.

She does not yet know that I am free, and we do not need her meddling. Once our hold has been established on this city, she will have no safe haven to run to. The police will hunt her and so shall we. But for now, give her a wide berth. Feed discreetly and do not kill. If any other vampire or demon threatens to expose us, take care of them."

While it was so much more enjoyable to kill one's victims, to feel their hearts beat harder and harder until there was not enough blood to pump anymore, it was unnecessary. The victim would not remember being bitten, they wouldn't not remember much of the night at all. One lick and the bite wounds would seal themselves. The prudent vampire kept his head down if he wished to survive. If anything, Holtz and the inquisition should have taught that lesson.

"Darla. Keep me informed on the events."

"Yes Master."


	4. Hurt

Willow was woken the next day by Giles who was on his way out. He hastily told her to help herself to anything in the fridge and that the spare keys were on the table for her to lock up with when she left.

Having forced her stiff jaw to chew a sandwich, she drank a glass of pineapple juice and did her morning exercises. The habit reminded her that she hadn't showered last night. Her pants still smelled faintly of the beer and she had no change.

She hadn't had time to do a lot of worrying on the matter, though, when the doorbell rang and Buffy burst through the door.

"Will! We're gonna be late! I brought clothes." She sniffed and grimaced. "Maybe you should take a shower first, though."

* * *

Willow lay with her head on a heavy tome of demonology and watched Buffy's retreating form until the library doors swung shut behind her... Or rather, Willow watched Buffy's retreating ass. If she had to make the distinction. It wasn't really her fault that the blonde looked so good with the walking and that taut supple… Damn it. She'd drooled all over the illustration of the M'fashnik demon. Two hundred years in the future, someone would probably look at this particular book and wonder what had happened to the picture on page 225. And then their watcher could inform them that it was Willow Rosenberg's fault because she couldn't control her damn hormones.

Looking down at her watch, the red-head let a sigh slip her lips. Her class would start in a minute. Her stupid daydreaming had almost gotten her late.

"Bye for now, Giles!"

The watcher gave her a nod of recognition from his office and Willow closed the book guiltily.

The hallways were emptying as most students were pouring into the classrooms, and Willow lengthened her stride.

"I always thought she would be the butch abusive type."

The remark wasn't particularly loud, but the voice carried across the almost empty corridor. Cordelia. She wasn't the first to note the bruise on Willow's cheek, but she was the first to comment on it. The question lit a fire in Willow's chest. In two quick steps, she had grabbed Cordelia by the throat and with all her weight behind her arm, shoved her into the wall.

"Get your hands off me," Cordelia snarled dismissively, attempting to push the shorter girl away. She found that did not work, and whimpered in pain as her head hit the plaster.

Willow, meanwhile, stared down the girl in front of her who for the past ten years had been the bane of her existence. Having faced a vampire the other night and killed it, she found she wasn't afraid of her anymore. She chuckled. Not even a bit.

"What- What are you doing?"

And for the first time in their lives, it was Cordelia who sounded afraid as she asked.

Willow looked down at the hand on her schoolmates throat, and slowly let go.

Then, with all the force she could muster, she smashed her fist into Cordelia's face.

"Don't ever say anything like that about Buffy ever again, you-" Don't call her poophead, don't call her poophead... Call her anything but a poophead. Think of something an eight-year-old wouldn't say. "-You bitch."

Willow stepped back and looked at her bloody knuckles in amazement, noting how they really hurt for the first time. Cordelia had already run off, leaving behind a small trail of blood as it dripped down her busted nose.

The computer class passed in a haze. Willow was aware that she left bloodstains on the keyboard as she did her work, but couldn't bring herself to clean her hands.

Though she knew she shouldn't, she felt proud of finally having got the better of Cordelia Chase. Even with such a petty method as violence.

So engrossed in the task of designing a program to help with the filing of Giles' books (which certainly wasn't their actual assignment, but she'd completed that the previous lesson anyways,) she didn't notice the knock on the door, and almost jumped up into the ceiling fan when her name was called from behind. The guidance counsellor, Mrs. Williams, was standing in the doorway, waiting. Saving her progress in a hidden folder on the school network, Willow followed her to the little office she had in the eastern wing of the school.

She was in trouble for sure, but how much trouble?

Would she be suspended? Expelled?

With the exception of an absence or two, her record was without a single blemish. There was a police officer waiting in the room, the very same she and Buffy had lied to about Jesse and Xander, as a matter of fact. Observing Mrs. Williams closer, she seemed strained. Adding two and two together, things weren't looking good.

"Willow, there's been an incident." The police officer, Jackson something, picked up the thread. Willow almost scoffed at that. Incident, indeed.

"There was a fire. Your parents, they- they didn't make it."

Willow opened her mouth, found nothing to say, and closed it again. It had to be a joke. A stupid joke. But they be joking upon something like that? And for Mrs. Williams to bring the police in on the joke. No, it didn't seem possible. Was there something Hell Mouth-y going on with her, by any chance?

It- it just couldn't be true.

"D-died?" she stuttered, helplessly. A numbness was spreading down her arms and the rest of her body.

"Yes-"

With a crash, the door was flung open, and Buffy burst in. "Will, I heard what happened with Cord- God, is your hand OK?"

She grasped the limp hand from out of Willow's lap and held it out to the lamp overhead to inspect the bloody digits.

"I bet she's feeling worse off than you are," the blonde said with a wry smile.

When Willow didn't respond, her expression shifted to worry.

"What's happened?" She asked.

"Miss Summers, perhaps it would be best if you waited outside," Jackson tried.

Buffy sent him a scathing look, which seemed to suffice to convince him she wouldn't go anywhere just yet. Willow grabbed the blonde's hand and held on to it hard. She needed Buffy there, a de-sensitising drug to dull the all-encompassing pain.

She didn't hear the slayer suggest they go somewhere else, temporarily, but felt herself being led in the direction of the library. It was mercifully quiet there and Buffy sat next to her on one of the steps leading up to the shelves, tracing soft patterns along her spine.

* * *

Dressed in black, Willow sat listening to her relatives and parents' friends, some of whom she'd never even met, say nice things about them.

Some were true, some - were not. Everyone looked at her with pity in their eyes and Willow hated it. She was angry. Angry at her parents for casting their only daughter out like a leper. Angry at them for leaving before she could give them a piece of her mind. Angry at all the guests and all their lies.

The hate bubbled through her veins like a vile poison and she just had to get it out. It was too much and she just couldn't contain it.

The scraping of chairs as people left their seats brought Willow out of her daze. The speechmaking part was over, and Willow left with the crowd flowing out of the small room. Past the door, she felt a small strong hand enclose on her shoulder and turned around to see Buffy's watery green eyes before the girl enveloped her in a hug.

Their eyes met and something inside Willow snapped. Something alien; cruel, desperate and uncontrollable, showed her how things were in perfect clarity.

Everything was Buffy's fault. Before they had met, Xander and Jesse had been OK. Her parents had been alive and there hadn't really been any gay thoughts to make them hate her. Now she was alone, struggling with her sexuality with nobody to talk to. She didn't even have school. When Cordelia had finally spilled the beans about the 'assault' she had been temporarily suspended.

"It's all your fault," she said quietly.

"What?" Buffy prodded, softly moving her hand along Willow's hair.

A treacherous wave of lust spread down her body and it only made Willow angrier. She gave Buffy a shove, which did put some distance between them, though it was mostly because she pushed herself back.

"It's all your fault!" she repeated, loudly. Too loudly. Some of her relatives turned inquisitive heads in their direction. "I hate you!"

And out it poured, every single little pent up emotion, every horribly cruel thought Willow barely even knew she had carried or been aware of. Buffy stood her ground and took the onslaught of verbal and physical abuse.

On some level, the sane and logical Willow, the same Willow who knew full well it wasn't Buffy's fault, knew that she couldn't really hurt the slayer.

But Buffy flinched at every hit and accusation all the same.

Muttering brokenly, Willow fell to her knees in front of one of the last few people who gave a damn about her, as she turned to go.

"I'm sorry, Buffy," she sobbed. "I didn't- Please - I didn't mean-"

Quickly, Willow took up the pursuit, catching up with the retreating blonde after only a few steps. Though she tripped over her own feet, she managed to wrap her arms around Buffy's mid-section, ending up with her cheek pressed awkwardly against the small of the slayer's back.

"Please let go." Willow couldn't help but to note that Buffy didn't sound angry, just - kind of empty.

"No," she argued, voice bordering on desperation. "Please. I'm so sorry."

Rearranging herself from the awkward position, she hugged Buffy as hard as she could, burying her face in the junction between the slayer's neck and shoulder.

"Don't go- Please."

She couldn't believe what she had done. But it couldn't end like this. She had to do something to make Buffy, even if it was just long enough for her to explain.

Willow pulled out of the embrace but didn't draw back far. She and Buffy were face to face, two inches apart at the most. Despite the puffiness, the bloodshot eyes, tears clinging to her eyelashes, Willow didn't think she'd ever seen her look so beautiful before. She hesitated momentarily, but when Buffy's mouth quirked up in a brave hopeful little smile, Willow's limited resolve broke and she kissed her.

It took a moment before Buffy responded. Eagerly, almost with fevour. In all fairness, there were no other kisses to compare to, but it felt unlikely there'd be anything better. Really why hadn't they done this before?

Buffy swiped her tongue tentatively against Willow's bottom lip and as a small whimper escaped her, she suddenly realized something.

Half of the guests, including her eighty-five-year-old grandmother, hadn't gone anywhere. God, Joyce was there, too, and Giles.

"What the hell are you all looking at?" Buffy shouted, pulling Willow closer to her in a protective, even possessive, manner.

Most of the guests quickly made themselves scarce. Giles' facial expression didn't betray whatever was going on in his head. Her grandmother was actually smiling enigmatically. Joyce looked rather like she'd been clubbed on the head.

"Will. Maybe we should-?" Smiling shyly, Buffy indicated at the stairways leading out of the building.

"Willow honey. I would actually like a word with you if that's alright. I'm sure your friend can wait a little longer."

The last time she had met her grandma had been at her bat mitzvah, three years ago.

"O-of course." She'd been a little afraid of the stern old woman as a kid and somewhere deep down, it still lingered. The conversation itself wasn't very bad. To her surprise, her grandmother wasn't angry she'd been making out with a girl right in front of their relatives, though she did add she'd have preferred if it had at least been a nice Jewish girl. She offered Willow to stay with her in New York and study there.

In the end, Willow got out of it by saying she'd consider going to college somewhere in that area. As tempting as an escape from Sunnydale sounded, it was all she knew.

When the guests had finally left, she followed Giles home in his car. She felt very small sitting there with him and the way he patted her shoulder before turning the ignition reminded her somewhat of her father.

* * *

Willow stared at the steaming cup of tea waiting at the table in front of her, thoughts running amok in her head. She felt sort of happy and knew she really shouldn't.

But there to counter every single guilty thought was the mental image of Buffy smiling. On some level, she was thankful of the distraction. She wasn't even sure she wanted to mourn her close-minded sorry excuse for parents.

But as she sat there, sipping the earl grey, it was hard not to remember better times. Like how when she had been younger and her parents hadn't started going away on conferences. Back then, even Sunday afternoon, her father had gone out to the garage to work on the other car. He very rarely did any actual work, but rather just sat there with a beer listening to Springsteen or The Rolling Stones. Willow usually sat with him those afternoons. She hadn't initially liked the music very much, but it had meant, for once, that her father had some time to spend with her.

There was a knock at the door and a few seconds later, Buffy stepped inside. Willow wiped the few tears that had fallen down her cheeks away and gave the blonde a gauging look. Despite the fact that they had kissed earlier, she really didn't know what to say. Well, it was probably because they had kissed.

Willow felt herself blushing and could tell that her friend was, too. Were they still friends, though? After what had happened?

"Hey," she said awkwardly, avoiding the blonde's eyes.

"Hey." Buffy stepped a few feet short of the couch, eyes stubbornly fixed on her feet.

"Good evening, Buffy."

Both girls turned in the direction of Giles' voice, thankful of the distraction.

Willow made a private vow not to chicken out and to talk it all over with Buffy the moment they had some alone time. But for now.

Abruptly, the shrill ringing of the telephone cut through the relative silence.

With a "Hang on," directed their way, Giles went to pick up the phone. Willow could hear him speak quietly to whoever was on the other side of the line, clearly worried by whatever news he had been given.

For a moment, she was sure she had heard him use the word "zombies", but she quickly convinced herself that hadn't been the case.

Thirty seconds later, Giles returned with a troubled expression on his face.

"Buffy." By the tone of his voice and the glance shared by watcher and slayer, Willow felt pretty sure something was amiss and had to be dealt with by killing the heck out of it.

"What's up?" the blonde asked, an edge to her voice.

"An associate of mine just called. There seems to be a bit of trouble over at the cemetery over by UC Sunnydale. Er- zombies."

"Zombies," Buffy repeated. "How many?"

"I'm not sure. But we can't let them roam until someone runs into them."

He grabbed his coat, pulled a cloth off a chest and grabbed two swords, handing Buffy a short-sword and grabbing one for himself.

When he turned around, his gaze was on Willow, who was looking at them with a mix of expectation and confusion. Surely they weren't going without her?

Giles looked uncertain.

"Er- Willow. Perhaps it would be best if you stayed behind, all things considered."

It was true that she had looked forward curling up under the blanket and possibly crying herself to sleep, but there was no way she was staying behind.

"I can help," she insisted, getting to her feet. She cast Buffy a pleading look.

"Let's go."

Giles appeared about to argue with his slayer, but an exchange of glances unseen by Willow from over by the couch seemed to settle the matter.

"We'll take my car," he said instead, getting the keys from the counter in between the kitchen and living room.

The ride took only ten minutes, during which Willow tried to focus on staring at the back of Buffy's head instead of thinking back on the zombie-movie marathon she, Xander and Jesse had done over a year ago.

Looking back, that night really had been a bad idea. She'd had to lock her door and check under her bed every night for two weeks to get any sleep.

The locked door had also spurred her mother to give her a painfully lengthy speech about how it was perfectly normal for girls her age to have certain urges and want to deal with them. That had sucked almost as much as the nightmares.

The car's engine stopped chugging gratefully at the campus parking lot. With a wheezing sound, it stopped and they all filed out.

It was late enough for most of the students, save for those returning from parties, to be curled up in their beds a good long while ago.

Not them, though. And apparently not the dead of Sunnydale either.

"How do you really kill them?" Willow asked as they crossed the road. Nothing seemed to be like in the movies and so she tried to keep herself informed.

"Decapitation usually works best," Giles told her, not turning around.

The cemetery was only a minute's walk away and Willow felt the familiar sensation of dread threatening to overwhelm her. Did Buffy feel the same way every single night, sneaking out of her window to patrol?

Maybe not. She was the hunter, after all. Chosen and all that. Not that Willow fully understood what being a slayer meant. She really should ask, given the chance.

They encountered the first zombie a little bit outside a large crypt surrounded by a five-foot-tall stone wall. It was a slow and lumbering creature, moving towards them with its arms outstretched, groaning. Buffy took care of it, deftly removing it's head with a single well-aimed slash of her blade.

Taking great caution, they snuck inside. Giles was in the front with his flashlight held high, it's rays sweeping over the dark grass and gravestones like a beacon at sea.

There were lots of them. Three dozen, easily, groaning and moaning as they noticed the disturbance of their not-so-final resting place.

It got very messy after that as they hacked and slashed the zombies to pieces. The source of their trouble was a yellow-streaked blue stone the size of a kiwi fruit.

A soul stone, Giles called it. An artifact that was generally used in necromantic rituals. They'd found it in a crypt surrounded by lit candles and a pentagram drawn in blood. In the end, the watcher had deduced that the likely perpetrators were one or several young necromancers trying out their newfound powers. Worrying, surely, but nothing too serious. They'd have to keep an eye out for them as there weren't any clues present.

* * *

"Ouch." Willow winced at the sting of the alcohol-covered swab of cotton passing over the small gash she'd received on her back. She was sitting on the closed lid of the toilet seat, shirt off and with her right bra-strap askew, in between Buffy's legs.

An innocent position really, though her mind didn't interpret it as such.

"How's it looking?" she wondered nervously.

"Just a scratch," Buffy assured. "Nothing to worry about."

"So I'm not gonna get all zombiefied, am I?"

Buffy laughed gently. "That's only in the movies, Will."

"Oh - Good. You're sure, though? 'Cause I don't wanna wake up tonight with a serious case of the brain munchies!"

"You'll be fine." Buffy wiped the wound down one last time and Willow shuddered. Really, what was wrong with her? She'd attended a funeral and hacked up well over a dozen re-animated corpses in the space of a few hours and now here she was, getting turned on by Buffy rubbing antiseptics over a wound.

"How's it feeling?"

"Good," Willow whispered, acutely aware of the warm, hard body and soft curves pressed fully along her back. She blushed at the feeling of slayer's chin on her shoulder, cheek to cheek.

"I'm really sorry 'bout earlier," Willow murmured, eyes drifting shut as Buffy's arms snaked around her waist.

"I know." A soft brief kiss was pressed against her throat and Willow couldn't stop a small sigh from slipping past her lips. Nor could she help moving her body against the slayer's and upon doing so, note the hard twin peaks poking lightly into her back.

Oh gosh - Buffy's nipples, and they were hard And she knew what that meant 'cause the room wasn't cold or anything. And hands! Hands were on Willow's stomach moving around in slow circles, but definitely upwards. Oh please higher. She really wanted to turn around and kiss Buffy again, but that'd mean a temporary stop to the touching. Choices, choices. Her brain already felt fried and was too occupied with feeling to actually do any thinking. Some part of her knew that she was getting groped in Giles' bathroom, by a girl she'd only kissed once before and that it'd probably be a good idea to slow things down. Yep, she was going to slow-

Oh, god, Buffy had her hand on her boob. Whatever protests she had originally thought of were hastily forgotten.

Clarity finally arrived when a distraction arrived in the form of knuckles rapping the door. With a startled yelp, Willow got to her feet, only to dive to the floor again in search of her shirt.

Wearing a grin that could only be described as naughty, Buffy walked by Willow and opened up the door.

"Is everything alright?" Giles asked from out of sight.

"All better," squeaked Willow, her face beet red.

Buffy glanced at her watcher's clock and yawned.

"S'late. I'm gonna head home."

She and Willow shared an awkward smile before she departed.

Settling on the sofa, Giles came by and put a cup of tea on the table in front of her without having asked if she wanted one. He gave her a strained smile to go with it and sat down in the comfortable chair opposite her.

For a moment, he seemed about to speak, but then just reached for his own cup of tea and sipped it. With the tea drunk, Giles rose from his seat and bade her good night.

Had he been about to lecture her on what had happened between herself and Buffy earlier?

As the slayer, Buffy was his responsibility, after all. In some ways.

He didn't seem upset, but he really was very British. Maybe that meant she couldn't tell?

On that note, she really had to speak to Buffy about what the frilly heck was going on between them.

* * *

The Master meshed his claw-like fingers together and surveyed the boy sitting at the opposite side of the table over them.

"Did everything proceed according to plan?" he asked softly.

"Yes, Master," Xander replied reverently. Being a vampire, he obviously couldn't have practised it in front of the mirror. Darla must've helped him out, bless her. He didn't care for sucking up, but respect for one's elders was only appropriate. It was nice to know that his favourite childe took the time to teach her own some manners.

"The slayer and her friends went for our decoy and Darla was able to make contact successfully."

The master smiled and the youngling was wise enough to find that mildly disconcerting at the very least, judging by his expression.

"There is another matter I wish to go over."

Xander, who had been about to rise from his seat resumed it quickly, waiting.

"It has been brought to my attention that the Rosenberg girl's home has been burned to the ground, killing both her parents."

To most spectators, even experienced ones, his most promising young lieutenant's face would have appeared neutral. But He was not most spectators. He had lived and observed treachery and deceit, human and otherwise, for over two millennia.

All that experience told him clear as day that the boy had something to do with it.

"The police report says there was no smoke in their lungs. Can you tell me what that means?"

The boy hesitated as if contemplating it, then looked as though struck by a sudden epiphany. "They were dead already?"

"Correct."

The Master rose from his chair, moved around the table and stood next to the other vampire.

"This- our organisation - our family - Is dependant on loyalty and trust." He put his hand on Xander's shoulder in an almost paternal manner.

"It is, in many ways, like a ship - and I'm her captain. Now, what do you say when I give you an order?"

"Aye."

The Master grinned. "Precisely."

In a rapid move, his hand shot out and with a merciless and almost casual flick, he gouged Xander's eye out.

"Your foolish disobedience and recklessness could have jeopardized a great deal of what we're trying to build," he declared coldly, cutting across the boy's howl of pain without trouble. "As it turns out, we can use your stupidity to our advantage. Considering yourself lucky. This is your first and only warning."

Had it been anyone else, he would've killed them outright, no questions asked.

However, Darla treasured the boy greatly and it was so hard to find competent people these nights that he saw no reason to seek conflict with those that actually did their jobs admirably unless it was needed.

The whelp would accept his lesson with the dignity that befitted his bloodline and Darla would be thankful the punishment hadn't been more severe.

Besides, The Master had an inexplicable feeling that young Xander would look rather dashing in an eye-patch.


	5. Changes

Willow slept badly that night too, still scared from the night's excursion, still torn up from the funeral and, damn it, still turned on after the little episode in the aftermath of their adventures.

Since she wasn't about to take care of that last worry with Giles a floor above, with no doors or walls separating them, she lay there in the darkness, eyes closed but her mind furiously at work for many hours into the night.

When she woke up, only a few hours of sleep later, her first thought was of how much that sucked.

The weak pale morning light shone through a window and straight into her eyes. She supposed she should be thankful of the sun, as it did keep half of her day vampire-free, but right now, not so much.

"Good morning, Willow."

Taking a deep breath and steeling herself, she sat up and gratefully accepted the cup of tea Giles had made for her. He always made her breakfast and it made her feel somewhat guilty. So far, she hadn't contributed at all. If only she had an alarm clock she could get up in time to do some good. Or maybe she could just ask if there was one for her to borrow?

Giles must have seen her look of thoughtfulness and concern, for he rounded on her with a similar one on his face. "I will be speaking to Principal Snyder today. You will be allowed to return to school tomorrow." There was a subtle note of menace to his voice.

At least there was an up-side to things. She'd have a chance at resting a little bit longer when Giles had gone. She didn't have any homework left, having done it to keep her mind occupied and off other hurtful or distracting lines of thought.

The watcher left a few minutes later, and Willow had just finished her sandwich when the door swung inward.

"Giles?" Buffy came rushing in, hair askew and flying behind her.

"You just missed him," Willow informed her, flushing at the sight of her friend's pink-tinted face and heaving chest.

"Oh." Buffy looked down at the floor and shuffled her feet. "Um - I'm sorry about yesterday. Sometimes after killing stuff - it's a slayer thing - I get a bit out of…" She sighed and walked closer so that only the sofa separated them. "Giles told me there's a delivery to the blood bank we need to check tonight, but I thought, maybe…" She took a deep breath and looked up from the floor for the first time. "Maybe afterwards we could go see a movie? Like a date?"

Willow stared. A date? She's never been asked out on a date before.

"Y-yeah," she stuttered. "Sure. A date."

Buffy apparently noticed her hesitance and misinterpreted it as unwillingness, judging by how the smile slipped off her face for a second and then re-appeared, decidedly fake. "If you don't want to, that's totally OK," she said, tone light and still oh-so-fake.

"No, I do!" Willow insisted hurriedly. "I do, really. I was just surprised. Nobody's ever asked me on a date before. Except Xander, but we were five, and then there was that whole Barbie incident - but that's not important and - "

She didn't have time to go on any further before Buffy leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to her cheek. The smile was back and positively radiant.

"I really gotta go," the blonde whispered, still close. "But I'll be back right after school."

Willow lingered on the couch, dazed, barely even noting how the door closed and left her alone again. Her hand brushed along the spot that had been kissed, and still felt warm.

Willow spent most of the day going through Giles' books. She wasn't entirely sure she was allowed, but if she was supposed to fight alongside Buffy then she probably was, right?

There were books on terrible monsters, books on prophecies so cryptic they might be describing the end of the world or the best way of making toast. And books on magic. Lots of them. With nothing else to do after her usual physical exercises, Willow spent almost the entire day poring over volume after volume.

Most of it she didn't think would be useful even if it doable. I mean, what kind of weirdos would want to make their tongues longer? That really couldn't be good for anything at all. And there was a spell to make your ears sprout hair.

But it wasn't all useless, either. She found a reference to Japanese samurai warriors enchanting their swords with certain spells. That could come in handy. She'd have to ask Giles about it when they got back from patrolling.

For about the millionth time, the thought of 'I'm going on a date with Buffy tonight!' zoomed through her head. The only thing that managed to wipe the silly grin off her face was the thought of 'Oh, yeah, my parents just died.'

Which made her feel guilty until Buffy returned at three o'clock and wiped most other thoughts off her mind again. The blonde had brought home some homework, which kept them busy until Giles arrived at five and decided it was time to discuss the night's activities.

The delivery would arrive at seven o'clock, and they decided to go and hide out there an hour early. Laying there in the bushes, Willow thought that the hospital really would be better off doing this kind of stuff in the daylight. And that she wasn't sure whether she was more frightened of the possible fight to come or the date afterwards.

The waiting was the worst, though. Even if Buffy holding her hand firmly in hers did help a little bit as the darkness slowly enveloped them.

The delivery arrived promptly at 7, and the vampires mere moments later, moving stealthily in the shadows along the walls where the light of the streetlamps did not touch them.

A firm squeeze on her hand told Willow it was time to go.

The steel slid smoothly out of their recently-acquired sheaths and glinted menacingly in the collective light of the crescent moon above and the few nearby streetlights.

The deliverers must have realized something was off, because they were already running for their lives. Whether they'd been scared by the vampires or them, Willow didn't know. Ahead, the vamps, noticing the new and possibly hazardous presence, slowed down. They paused once they were only a couple of feet apart, sizing each other up. The presence of the very sharp swords seemed to make them a little uneasy.

"Andy, you take the red-head, and we'll take the slayer."

The word "We" made Willow glance sideways and take note of how six more vampires appeared from the shadows. Her shout of warning came too late, but Buffy had seen the new arrivals, too, and quickly moved backwards, out of harm's way.

Willow took in the general area. There was nothing they could use to their advantage. Maybe they could jump in the truck and flee, if the keys were still there, but then they'd have to get past the vampires. That alone was too risky.

Andy, as her vampire was called, had pulled a large double-edged knife from his pocket and held it out between them, just like she did her sword. On the side, she could see Buffy trying to keep her vampires at a distance. Seven on one couldn't end well, and Willow knew she needed to discard her usual defensive approach and get over there to help out as quickly as possible.

It didn't turn out to be as easy as that, though. Andy was quick and seemed to know how to handle himself in a fight. She swung her sword again and again, while the vampire just dodged and mocked her.

He was too fast to hit, but fortunately not fast enough to get under her guard with the knife. There was the thud of someone being punched, and a pained noise from Buffy.

Willow dared a glance and saw her friend getting back on her feet, her nose bleeding.

She needed to end it right now, but just couldn't get close enough. Right, time for drastic measures. She swung for the vampires throat twice, missing as he jumped back.

"Gotta do better than that, darling!" he called, smirking.

Yes, she really did have to do better. She moved in closer for the next swing to compensate for when Andy would jump away from her strike. Only he didn't jump away - he didn't move anywhere at all, and they collided. A brief scuffle ensued as Willow tried to slide past his grasp, but a few seconds later, she was elevated off her feet with an unbreakable steel grip constricting her breathing. She couldn't even cry out for help. Though he did seem to be a decent enough fighter, Andy definitely was an idiot. He did wrestle the sword out of her hand, but forgot in his display of superior strength what part of himself he put her foot next to.

Summoning all her remaining strength, Willow kicked him in the groin and dead or not, it clearly hurt just as much as it would have in his past life.

With a strangled whimper, Andy fell to his knees.

Willow wasted none of her very limited time, scrambled backwards on her knees, got hold of her sword and didn't even look before thrusting it against the vampire's body.

As it were, her aim was true and Andy only just had enough time for his eyes to widen in fear before the sword went straight through his mouth and through the back of his skull in a spray of blood, brains and bone fragments.

It was a good time for nausea, but Willow couldn't spare any. She could hear Buffy getting her ass kicked, even if she was pretty sure at least two vampires were down.

Putting her foot against the vampire's chest for leverage, she pulled the sword out. Ignoring the blood that no doubt stained her pants and shoes, Willow grabbed the weapon with both hands and put Andy out of his gurgling misery.

Rushing over to join Buffy had seemed like a good idea. Until a heavy boot caught her just below the hip as reward for her inattention. Willow stumbled backwards, dazed. When the vampire reached out for her she tried to pull away, but he caught her painfully by the hair and dragged her closer. Close enough to smell his foul breath.

Then, with a hissing sound, the vampire dissolved into dust. Three to go, but something was wrong. Buffy wasn't moving very well. She was still up, still fighting, but one hand was pressed against her stomach where a dark red stain was blooming slowly. One vampire barely managed to get away from the sharp edge of Buffy's katana, and in his haste not to be decapitated, he ran into one of his friends, who stumbled and did not recover in time before Willow had made good use of his distraction and ended his un-life.

One a piece left. Buffy was slowing down even more. She dodged a punch from the one who seemed to be the leader. The most competent fighter of the lot, too, by the looks of it. Managing to get under his guard, she thrust the sword through his gut, but staggered as he backed away from the desperate move she'd overcommitted to.

Despite the weapon stuck in his stomach, the vampire still managed to pull a knife from a holster at his hip and shoved it deep into Buffy's chest.

Willow's vamp was on the ground, clutching a cut he'd received, and she could see slayer and vampire staring at one another for a moment.

Then Buffy pried the hand holding the knife off her (the blade followed and fell to the ground with a clatter), twisted and broke the wrist with a nasty cracking sound, grabbed the sword with both hands, and tore it upwards with all her considerable strength.

The most disturbing thing was that despite being cut in half from two inches above the waist and up, the vampire didn't dissolve.

Buffy fell to her knees with a grunt, slowly crawled over, stuck her hand into the bloody mess, grabbed something the size of a large lemon and squeezed it so hard it burst. And just like that, the vampire exploded in dust.

Willow needed to get over there and help her, but one vampire remained. If she didn't kill it first, they would both die. The last of the vamps got to his feet, gave Willow and her sword one last look, then scampered. Finally… Half-way ready to sprint to Buffy, Willow noted something in the corner of her eye, and hastily rolled away in the other direction.

A dark shape in a leather jacket stood waiting, calmly, clapping.

"Nice job, Will."

Willow quickly got to her feet, ignoring the sting of her knees as a result of her tumble on the asphalt.

"Xander."

"Yes," His teeth glinted white in the moonlight as he smirked at her.

She dared a quick glance at Buffy. She was crawling along the ground, barely making progress.

"Leave now."

"Aw, come on. Haven't you missed me? Or is your precious little slayer all you care about now?"

The taunt didn't provoke her as much as it probably would have on any other day. She was too distracted and too short on time. Right. One vampire, a fledgling, she could handle.

"Okay, then. Give Mommy and Daddy my regards."

Xander had only advanced one step when the whistle of a crossbow bolt cut through the otherwise quiet evening.

It embedded itself deep in Xander's chest and for a second, he grabbed it, then looked closer and seemed to think better off it. It was dark, but Willow would bet it hadn't missed his heart more than by a fraction of an inch. If he wiggled it wrong or it got pushed in a tussle, he'd be dust.

A threatening step forward by Willow seemed to be enough, and he quickly ran away into the dark of the night.

Buffy looked rather small where she lay, crossbow in her hand, with blood slowly pooling on the asphalt from the cut. Foolishly perhaps, Willow put her hands under the slayer's back and knee-joints. But despite how hard she had been training the past few weeks, despite the adrenaline rushing through her bloodstream, she wasn't strong enough. This wasn't the right time to panic. This really wasn't the right time to panic.

"Buff, I'm gonna need a bit of help here, OK?" Looping an arm under the slayer's arms and around her shoulders, Willow slowly (and with a little bit of help) managed to get her up to her feet.

"Order of… Aurelius. Tell Giles."

"What?" What the heck was the Order of Aurelius?

"Tell Giles," Buffy wheezed, and spoke no more.

Slowly and painfully, they started walking, Buffy stumbling and faltering, barely conscious.

"It's going to be alright," Willow promised desperately, pulling her friend along across the parking lot in front of the hospital's main entrance.

It wasn't far now, just another forty yards. Not far… But Buffy wasn't able to help out at all anymore, letting Willow shunt and drag her slowly across the tarmac.

"Listen to me Buff. You're gonna be fine. It's just a stupid little scratch!"

Twenty feet. Her arms had been hurting before, but now they were numb, feeling as though made out of lead. Just a little bit longer… Sweat had and blood mixed on her shirt, both her own and Buffy's.

Upon their approach, the doors opened automatically. Thank God for that, Willow thought to herself as she collapsed from exhaustion only barely inside the vestibule.

There was a crash of china on wood and quick footsteps in their direction, followed by a panicky call of "Doctor!" from a shrill-voiced woman.

Willow managed to get back on her feet and saw people walking hastily in their direction. Buffy was trying to say something, but it was too low for her to hear it. She leaned closer, but there was nothing but Buffy's feeble breath on her ear.

A few seconds later she watched as her friend was lifted up onto a stretcher and hastily run off to surgery. She forced her protesting legs to keep up and was, despite her loud tantrum and insistence to be let through to the operating room, directed by a stern old nurse into a seat.

"Now you sit here and wait, and I'll have a doctor take a look at you in just a moment."

Giving the door Buffy had disappeared through a last glance, Willow got out of the plastic chair and followed the signs pointing the way to the bathrooms.

The sight that greeted her wasn't pretty. Her face, hair and clothes were covered in spatters of blood and dirt. There was a small and shallow cut just under her hairline where she hadn't dodged fast enough, but most of the blood must've been that of her friend. She also noticed, almost in surprise, that her pants had been torn open at the right knee.

Pulling up her shirt and pulling down her pants at the hip, she saw a large purple bruise from the boot.

But all in all, she was far better off than Buffy and far better off than she deserved. If only she had been faster, stronger. Better. Then they might've been laughing about it all watching some stupid movie. But they weren't. And they possibly never would.

Watching the blood temporarily leave the porcelain pink, a realization struck Willow: they'd not exactly left the scene of the crime, so to speak, squeaky clean.

There'd be blood all over the ground, theirs and some of the vampires'. Not to mention two swords and a crossbow hidden away in bushes. If the police added all of that together with friends disappearing and relatives dying… Well, it couldn't end with hugs and puppies, that much was clear.

She had to call Giles. Oh, god - she had to call Mrs. Summers. She didn't even know something was wrong. They wouldn't have been back from the movies for almost another hour. With no idea where to locate a phone, she hurried down to the receptionist, who let her borrow one.

It wasn't as easy as that, though, once she stood with the phone in her hand. How did you tell someone that their daughter, or slayer, was in the hospital and that they might not even make it?

In the end, she called Giles first. He took it with an experienced calm promised to clean up the area where they'd fought before seeing Buffy. Mrs. Summers was harder, much harder. There was crying, on both sides of the line, before she finally said she was on her way over.

And then Willow was on her own again. She was pretty sure she'd never felt worse in her life.

"Excuse me, miss?"

Willow looked up to see a doctor standing in front of her, old, probably sixty, with kind eyes beneath thick glasses.

"I'm Dr. Jacobsen. Your friend, Miss Summers - she's going to have to stay here for a while, but we think she's going to make a full recovery. Do you know if she has any relatives we can contact?"

Willow cleared her throat painfully, but a wave of relief swept through her. "Her mom is on the way. I called her ten minutes ago."

She returned her attention to her bloodstained hands and flinched when a hand brushed away her fringe from the cut hidden underneath.

"I'm sorry, "Jacobsen said hastily. "But we'd best take a look at you."

"M'fine."

"Nurse Jacobsen is going to kill me if I don't. A very frightening woman, that, I've no idea why I ever married her… But that's neither here nor there. You're not fine, so let's go."

Willow had previously thought she couldn't feel any worse, but as it turned it, she definitely could. Jacobsen first gave her injuries a thorough inspection, cleaning them, but deeming it all harmless enough. While he was working, he asked her how she'd ended up in such a state… and Willow told him the moderated version of the night, where they'd been attacked by muggers.

When it was over, she was out in the waiting room again. Every second of it felt like torture. Her fists were clenched so hard in their lap her nails dug into the skin.

Mrs. Summers arrived first, pale and terrified, immediately demanding the direction in which her daughter was being treated.

Willow pointed the way and trailed behind, not sure whether she wanted to go inside the room and see what state her friend was in or not.

But as if dragged by a string, she followed Buffy's mother past a doctor who approved their passage, through a few more doors, and to the blonde's bedside. She seemed to be asleep.

Willow sunk into a chair and remained there, staring intently at the machine indicating Buffy's heartbeats. Mrs. Summers went out to talk to a doctor at some point and then returned. Minutes became hours, and sometime in the middle of the night, Willow finally succumbed to exhaustion.

Waking up, she didn't really realize where she was until she heard the steady beep of the machine still dutifully noting Buffy's heartbeat. She seemed to have fallen asleep leaning against somebody's shoulder. Looking up, Willow noticed to her intense embarrassment that it was Giles. To make matters worse, he was smiling at her over his plastic cup of coffee.

Straightening up, which hurt like hell, her eyes immediately went to Buffy's bed. The slayer lay there, just like she had before, alive but motionless.

"She'll recover," said Giles, sounding tired.

"Slayers heal fast, right?" asked Willow softly, unable to look away from her friend.

Giles cleared his throat, and Willow noted Mrs. Summers asleep against his other shoulder.

"Yes," he answered after a pause. "In a few days, she probably won't even have scars for souvenirs."

Getting up on sore legs, Willow limped over to Buffy's bedside and took her small hand. "How much longer will it be until she wakes up?"

"I don't know."

As much as she wanted to be around when Buffy did wake up, Willow knew there were things to do. Buffy never would get hurt like this again as long as she was there to do anything about. It was nine o'clock in the morning and the shops would already be opened. Declining Giles suggestion about having something to eat, Willow sped off, washed the remaining dried blood away from her face in one of the hospital's toilets, and hurried of the Sunnydale shopping centre.

It was the only one of it's kind in the reasonably small city, and Willow figured that she'd do most of her errands there. If she couldn't find what she needed (and she quite honestly wasn't sure what that was just yet) then she'd have to try looking through seedier neighbourhoods.

Willow decided to start with what would in most likelihood be the simplest acquisition. Clothes. Buffy had suggested, maybe a week ago, that they find her some cute outfits that were more slay-friendly. Which Willow took to mean intimidating. Well, it couldn't be denied that knitted floral pattern blouses really were unlikely to strike fear into the hearts of the undead.

Maybe later, with Buffy. When she got better.

Sighing tiredly at her battered reflection, Willow ran a hand through her long red hair.

She'd always liked having it long, but it had almost gotten her killed. It would have to go. But she really couldn't bring herself to cut it too short… What if Buffy thought it looked horrible? Like a boy? Would that be bad or good?

In the end, she settled for shoulder length, and reasoned that at the very least, there'd be less to grab. The sporting goods store had a surprising amount of weaponry. Brass knuckles, bows, crossbows, even nun-chucks. God bless the Fifth Amendment.

Willow pictured herself, for a moment, with a bow. Then she remembered that it took a great deal of skill to hit a human body, let alone a heart. There was no way she'd get good enough to make any use of it. Giles had crossbows already, anyways. Better ones, too.

She bought the most expensive of the brass knuckles, though. She hadn't seen any of those in Giles' weapons chest.

Not knowing what else she could arm herself with, Willow dodged away from the temptation of the fast food restaurants the mall offered and headed back to the hospital, wishing she'd bought a coat to shield her from the light drizzle that had come from nowhere. The bus took her back to the hospital twenty minutes later, and Willow walked through the halls, taking in the scent of sickness and disinfectant.

In Buffy's room she found both Giles and Mrs. Summers at Buffy's bedside, having a quiet conversation.

Peeking around them, she spotted Buffy. Her face was still bruised badly, but her eyes were open. She smiled at the sight of Willow, then cocked her head to the side, winced in pain, and looked vaguely surprised. "You cut your hair," she said croakily. Willow's stomach did an uncomfortable back flip.

"Yeah… Don't you like it?"

"No - that's not what I meant." Buffy swallowed, painfully by the looks of it, and smiled apologetically. "It's really cute."

Glancing shyly at Giles and Mrs. Summers, both of whom were clearly listening and trying to act as though they weren't, Willow walked round to the other side of the bed. She stood there for a while, hesitating, then slipped her hand over Buffy's, giving it a soft squeeze.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, unable to help herself from carefully running a hand along Buffy's cheek. The swelling there was already receding.

"S'not your fault."

"I should've been more help."

"I'll heal," the slayer promised, smiling a sort of half-smile. "Don't worry, OK?"

To be honest, Willow could just as soon quit worrying as cut off her own arm, but there was no need for Buffy to pull any stitches. If she had any.

Well, no matter how she was patched up, a non-moving approach to things would probably be best.

Eyes drifting shut, Buffy's head lazily fell back on the pillow. "Stupid morphine," she complained. "Makes me sleepy."

"You should rest, honey," Joyce admonished.

"Mmm…"

Willow's stomach chose that time to rumble loudly and angrily at her for the lack of food she'd provided it, and it was quickly insisted by both Giles and Mrs. Summers that she go and get something to eat.

It took Buffy two more days until she had healed enough to leave the hospital. The doctors who had treated her sometimes cast Giles frightened looks, no doubt due to the call he had been forced to make to the Watchers Council to hush things up. People weren't supposed to heal from near-lethal injuries in less than three days.

In the end, all was well. The men in black didn't pick Buffy up, and because she wasn't supposed to be doing anything that involved too-enthusiastic movement for at least a week according to Giles, she and Willow were currently sitting in the living room of the Summers' residence, watching 'Toy Story'.

Mrs. Summers was guarding Buffy like a hawk, which was turning problematic. True, Willow and Giles had gone to do some reconnaissance to try to locate the Order of Aurelius and see what they were up to, but they needed the slayer more than anything to check out the more dangerous areas, or to go at night.

Then again… it really didn't suck to sit this close to Buffy, hands clasped under the big fluffy blanket.

"We're going to have to tell her," Buffy whispered, her breath unexpected and tantalizing on Willow's ear.

"What about Giles?"

Buffy yawned, leaning her head on Willow's shoulder. "Talked to him earlier - he said we might have to if she didn't ease up on the curfew." She yawned again.

"Tomorrow?"

"Yeah, tomorrow."


	6. Players

A/n: Just a quick message to the old readers. I have done a lot of fixing on the other chapters, especially the two first. You might wanna re-read them. That said, I hope you enjoy this brand new chapter.

* * *

Sunnydale didn't look nearly as inviting after nightfall as it did during the bright sunny days she'd seen pass through the bus-windows on the way there.

Tara glanced nervously left and right as she walked down the dingy street. She'd arrived an hour ago and had wanted to walk what was supposed to be three blocks, according to her map, to the place where her motel was supposed to be.

But she was either as dumb as the day was long or there was something wrong with the map.

Right. She was going to go to college. She was a big girl and she could damn well ask some stranger for direction.

"E-excuse m-me, sir. Could you...?" The man, wobbly, on the wrong side of forty and with an impressively-sized beer gut just kept on walking as if he hadn't heard her.

Tara took a deep breath for courage. Two girls, a year or two younger than her, one blonde and the other a red-head walked on the opposite side of the street. Tara was about to go over to them, but a bus came driving by and when it had passed, they were gone. Sighing, she trudged on and almost walked straight into a group of people coming out of an alley. A man, a woman and a little girl.

The man was tall, lean, with bright blue eyes, slicked back platinum blonde hair and wore a long leather coat with an air swagger. The woman at his side was willowy, pale and beautiful. She looked out of place in her old-fashioned white dress, like a movie star from the fifties. The little black girl, no older than ten, walked hand in hand with the man as though she was his daughter, though that was obviously impossible. Unless she was adopted. She was a beautiful child, but though the smile on her face was benign, the eyes were cold, calculating and looked utterly out of place on someone so young.

"H-Hello."

By the time she spoke, the little family had walked almost past her. But they stopped in their tracks, turned, and came up to her.

"I'm s-sorry. I'm looking for m-my m-motel and I'm lost. Do you know-?"

She brought out the map, held it up under the streetlight and pointed to the place where she wanted to go.

"We're just visiting, too," said the man in an unmistakably British accent. Cold hands made an appearance on Tara's shoulders.

"Arrived yesterday as a matter of- Dru, no!" He all but snarled the words, and there was a whining sound from behind Tara like that of a scolded puppy. How the woman had gotten all the way around her without being noticed, she did not know.

"But her blood calls out to me Spike... It sings like the stars."

She started humming to herself and the man, Spike, grabbed her by the arm and pulled her back.

"They're burning balls of helium and hydrogen, pet. They can't sing."

Pale, out at night, cold hands, mentions of blood, the impossibly-old look in that girl's eyes. Something clicked and Tara almost fell backwards onto the pavement when it struck her.

"You're vampires."

The moment she'd said it, she regretted it. Smart move. Brilliant, really. Tell the soulless monsters you're onto what they are.

But Spike merely gave her an indulgent smile, rather like the one he'd worn when talking to the woman, Dru.

"And you're a witch, but you don't see me judgin' you. This is Drusilla and Genina."

He pointed them out in turn and Tara awkwardly shook their cold hands, not sure what else to do.

"I don't know where your motel is, but we've got a place for the night. Big enough for you to stay if you'd like."

Tara recoiled. The offer sounded kind, but vampires were never kind. They were soulless and conscienceless monsters. All they did was feed, have sex and do drugs. A lot like Democrats, according to her father. This didn't make much sense at all.

Spike smiled that indulgent smile again, as if he wanted to ruffle her hair.

"If I wanted to kill you I coulda done it here and now before you could blink. Neighborhood like this, nobody would give a damn."

Tara blinked, confused.

"S-so- Why d-don't you?"

"You look like someone, alright? My sister."

"Y-your sister?"

Spike nodded gravely.

Tara looked around one last time, desperately, for the motel. There was nothing anywhere, as far as she could see.

"Okay," she told Spike softly.

Genina slipped her little hand in Tara's as they walked on down the street.

* * *

All cities of decent size and population end up having neighborhoods nicer than others. This particular one definitely wasn't among them, Willow thought to herself as prodded an empty Coke can out of her way with her foot. Attentiveness was of the outmost importance here, but stealth was not. They were constantly being watched, but not by anything dangerous most of the time.

No, these were the parts where the working girls (And the occasional boys) of Sunnydale made their living. It was a dangerous area for many reasons and Giles had been extra British with the cleaning of his glasses, the throat-clearing and the stuttering when he told them to go investigate how things were there. It was only logical, he reasoned, that vampires paid a visit.

If a student went missing, there'd be parents filing police reports eventually, but with these girls, the police probably wouldn't be involved most of the time.

For the cautious undead (or any other predator, be it demonic or human) it was perfect. It became apparent very quickly that Buffy often patrolled these parts when she wasn't around.

"How's it hanging tonight, Blondie?" A rough voice called from under a flickering streetlight. Both Buffy and Willow turned to the speaker, the prior with a casual smirk and the latter with a confused look. The woman in question was tall, black, with broad shoulders and large thighs that put heavy strain on her fishnet stockings.

"Fine and dandy, Bertha," replied Buffy, taking a relaxed stance a couple of feet away.

"Who's your pretty little friend here?"

"She's Willow. Um- Will, this is Big Bertha."

"Pleasure," said Big Bertha, shaking Willow's hand in her own large one, which on reflection probably couldn't be all that clean. Trying to push all the disturbing images popping into her head away, she returned her focus to the on-going conversation, which seemed to be between people who spoke rather often.

"What brings you to my neighbourhood tonight, then?"

"Oh, the usual. Gotta bust a few more of your girls."

Bertha guffawed. "You go do that, girl."

As they walked away, Willow cast Buffy a sideways glance and the moment she was sure Bertha was out of earshot, she whispered, "Buff, am I going a bit crazy or was that woman actually a man?"

"Yep."

"Oh. Okay."

"That's it?" asked Buffy, slinging her arm around Willow's shoulder. "No wigging?"

"Well, I'm gay so I can't really judge her- him, right?"

Buffy shrugged.

"Why would you be busting any of her girls, anyways? Unless they're all fangy-" She mimicked a pair of fangs with her hands for Buffy's amusement.

"First times I patrolled here, they thought I was an undercover cop or something like that. Kinda ended up being a private joke."

"Oh, okay. I thought this place was supposed to be crawling with vampires, though. We've been here an hour and the only sucking we've seen- Actually, let's not go there."

They'd asked around among the girls, but for the past two months, the disappearances had mostly stopped. The general theory was that the police finally had done something useful and caught the sick son of a bitch.

Willow and Buffy knew better. The only reason a group of vampires would stop hunting as they normally did would be that they wanted to go unnoticed. Or rather, that someone very scary - much more so than them - was telling them to lie low.

This definitely supported their theory about The Order of Aurelius being present, but so far, other proof had eluded them.

Well, Order or no Order, something sure as hell was going on, and that was worrisome enough to warrant their attention.

Another girl came stumbling out of an alley on heels far too high for her.

Willow glanced awkwardly at her as they walked past without stopping, without even slowing down.

"Shouldn't we be-" She hesitated, but looked up at Buffy, who'd stopped walking. "Shouldn't we be helping her?"

The blonde stared blankly at her for a moment. "It's not our jurisdiction, Will. We're not social workers. We're not cops. We're vampire slayers."

"Oh." Willow didn't know what to say to that. She didn't really agree, but-

There was crash behind them, and both of them whipped around.

The young girl had fallen over a dustbin.

Sighing, Buffy walked over, hoisted her to her feet and held her steady.

"Are you OK?" she asked kindly.

The young girl blinked, focused her pretty hazel eyes on Buffy with a bit of difficulty. She then turned her attention to Willow.

"Looking for some company, babe?" she asked. Willow blushed.

"She's with me," Buffy insisted with an edge of menace. The girl didn't seem to notice it.

"Alright, but that'll be double the money."

They both stared at her, faces reddening considerably.

"Uh, thanks - That's nice, but- Uh-" Willow glanced at Buffy for help. The blonde rolled her eyes, grabbed Willow by the hand and dragged her along.

When their paces matched up her grip loosened, but she didn't relinquish the hold on her hand. It felt nice. Warm and comforting.

Eventually, they reached the harbor and it's industrial district, warehouse after warehouse as far as the eye could see.

They'd sneaked into one where someone had broken their way through the chain link fence and busted the rusty lock. Slowly, they walked across the floor, eyes scanning the darkness.

There weren't many demons around as of late, but sometimes they squatted in places like these. Finally, Buffy relaxed and Willow allowed herself to do the same.

"Seems empty."

And no sooner had she said it than they heard the roar of engines from somewhere close. Lots of them. They stopped somewhere in the vicinity and shouts could be heard.

"There," whispered Buffy, pointing at stairs leading to a roof access. "Let's see what's going on."

* * *

The roof was covered in tarred paper and without any streetlight or illumination from the cloudy sky, they had to watch their step as they trod in the darkness. Approaching the edge of it, they lay down and crawled the last two yards. All the while, the roar of engines died down and was replaced by more crashes and shouting.

The creatures on the bikes were humanoid, but horribly deformed, with long sharp teeth and pointed ears. The closest reference Willow could make were pictures of orcs in Lord of the Rings.

They were currently occupied trashing the street below, pulling out chairs and tables into a pile and burning the lot of it. Willow could feel Buffy shifting restlessly at her side.

"No." She put a cautioning hand low on the slayer's back. "There's way too many of them."

"I could take them down a few at a time, hit and run... They don't look very-"

"Buff, look!"

Another group was walking down he trashed street, too many to be friends coming down from drinking somewhere. They were fewer, fourteen by Willow's count, compared to the two dozen demons, but kept approaching without apparent worry.

"Vampires," whispered Buffy.

The orc-thingy-demons had spotted them, too, and were quieting down as they gathered up by their little bonfire. Their leader, easily recognizable as the biggest and ugliest of the lot, took a few steps forward. One vampire, already ahead of the rest, moved to meet him.

As he got closer to the flickering light of the fire, Willow could finally see him clearly.

He was tall, though he didn't really look it standing close the head-biker demon. His head was bald, his ears bat-like and when he spoke, it was with a smile detectable in his voice. Buffy went rigid.

"Gentlemen..." He spread his hands out in what seemed to be a friendly gesture. "You are trespassing."

The demon stood still for a few seconds, then threw his head back and roared with laughter. His gang guffawed behind him.

"If you would be so kind as to get back on your motorcycles and leave town without speeding, then we needn't have any problems."

The orc-demon threw his head back to laugh again. It turned out to be a mistake. Moving faster than anything Willow had ever seen, including Buffy, the vampire swept out with a claw-like hand. Blood spurted, black-ish and thick, from the demon's throat and he clutched desperately at it as he fell to the ground.

"It's the Master," Buffy whispered, horrified. "Leader of the Order of Aurelius. He's supposed to be dead. Giles said so..."

The Master raised his leg and stomped his boot down with such force that the demon's skull popped like a grape, spattering the street with gore.

Willow's stomach performed a nauseous backflip and she gritted her teeth, fighting the sensation down. There'd be lots of time to vomit her guts up later.

Down on the street, the demons stood hesitant in the absence of orders. Willow could hear talking, but not explicitly what was being said in low nervous voices.

Then, without much in ways of a warning, the biker-orcs charged.

The vampires were quick to close the line and met them head-on, their clash noisy as flesh met flesh with considerable velocity.

Even with the distance and with the faces being vamped out, Willow recognised Darla and Xander. The blonde side-by-side with the Master and her deceased friend at the left flank.

Most of the vampires seemed to be about evenly matched in terms of strength with the demons, Darla definitely being stronger and Xander somewhat weaker.

But while the vampires were organized and methodical, the demons fought like rabble, getting in each other's way, pushing and shoving.

"If they kill off enough of each other, we go down to finish off the rest," Buffy whispered.

And then there was the Master. He slaughtered his way through their ranks with the unrelenting ferocity of a storm, tearing out throats and ripping off heads, with Darla clearly struggling to keep up at his right and whoever had been at his left far behind already.

He moved across the bloodstained tarmac with a methodical purpose, taking on enemy after enemy, never faltering, never taking so much as a single blow, weaving through the sea of angered demons with an graceful ease that awed and frightened Willow.

She tentatively felt her way across the dirty roof they lay upon and took Buffy's hand in hers to squeeze softly.

The fight went on and the scales quickly tipped into the favour of the vampires.

The demons were only armed with the odd chain, knife or iron pipe, none of which did much good.

Two very violent and bloody minutes followed and at their culmination, the remaining four demon's ran for it.

They did not get far. More vampires came pouring out of the alleys and cut off their escape. None were left alive and their bodies were piled high next to the fire.

The fourteen remaining vampires were all alive, and the ones that were intact supported those in worse shape as they left the scene for the reinforcements to clean up. Willow couldn't help to note this pattern of the hierarchy.

"Let's go," said Buffy quietly. "Be careful."

Slowly, they walked back across the roof to the access they had arrived from.

"Ow, shit."

Willow turned to Buffy, who was clutching her arm.

"You were saying?" she asked, eyebrows raised.

The slayer muttered a few choice words, but smiled despite herself as a strong breeze ruffled their hair before they made their way through the door.

* * *

_Elsewhere_

The Master took the lead on the way back, as always, and sent the relatively unharmed Xander ahead to scout and make sure they did not run into complications. The sewers in this part of town were maze-like and unreliable, which was a pity. When their hold on the city was stronger, he'd have to make sure that was seen to.

It would, after all, be in the interest of the general public to have a working sewage system.

He rarely involved himself in fights, especially a clean-up as easy as this one, but he had been underground for almost a century. The troops needed to see their leader in combat or that leader would lose authority and be challenged, which in turn would force a culling of the ranks as an example. Xander came walking back in his direction.

"Master. The way is clear to the sewer access."

"Good."

Darla gave the boy a smitten look that left the Master mildly nauseated, and then watched him take his place at the left.

Once they reached the sewer, Darla took point on the way down, while he lingered. It was of the utmost importance to his role as a leader that he always be the first in the charge and the last to leave the field of battle.

He was just about to put his foot on the steel ladder-steps leading down into the filthy but useful underground when a breeze swept his way, bringing with it the most intriguing smell. One that easily blocked out the sewage below.

Slayer-blood, sweet and wonderful slayer blood. Judging by the wind's direction, she must have seen the fight. Which was unfortunate. He'd have to speed up his plans.

On the bright side, that meant her blood would be his all the sooner. It'd been centuries since the last time... Perhaps he'd turn her. A slayer vampire... The idea had potential.

* * *

The walk back to Giles took a long time. Buffy insisted upon scouting ahead to make sure the passage was clear, and by the time they stood at his door it was just a few minutes past midnight.

The watcher was still dressed in his tweed suit when he opened it, and judging by how quickly he got there, he'd been waiting, worried.

Smiling, he allowed them entrance and went to make them all tea. It had grown into a customary thing for them. Buffy and Willow would report and drink tea before turning in for the night. The drink was growing on the both of them.

When the watcher had taken a seat in the couch across from them and clasped his hands in his laps, Buffy cleared her throat.

"The Master is alive, Giles. He's here."

Willow had expected panic, maybe denial, but there was nothing of the sort. On the contrary, she noted that calm, cold, and calculating look on his face. Just like the one she'd seen when the watcher had scared Larry, the large football player and douchebag extraordinaire, to tears for stealing Jonathan's lunch.

The mildly twitchy, stuttering face he presented to the public was all an act, as far as Willow was concerned.

"Very well."

He walked off and returned with a bottle of scotch and two tumblers, which he filled with a finger's breadth each. Buffy drained hers immediately and it was not until that moment when the grimace had faded off her face that Willow saw how terrified she was.

Giles disappeared upstairs and returned with a sports bag slung over his shoulder.

"I must leave right away and report to the Council," he told them briskly, rummaging through the kitchen, out of sight.

He made a phone call, seemed satisfied with what he was told and then made another.

This one took longer and ended up in a shouting match with the person on the other side of the line. Willow made note of many new words in the area of British profanity.

Some sort of agreement was eventually reached, and Giles came out to them.

Buffy was helping herself to a second glass of scotch, and he took the bottle away from her after she'd poured it.

"I am sorry, Buffy, but for protocol's sake, I must ask you again. Are you entirely sure?"

The slayer took two deep breaths through her nose, swigged down the second glass of scotch, shuddered and then spoke. "It was him, Giles. He was so strong, so fast, and there were other vampires... They were organised. I didn't think they ever formed nests that big."

Giles put a hand on her shoulder, which Willow noted seem to calm the slayer down a bit. She felt jealous she herself couldn't do that.

"Rarely. It happens sometimes, with an elder strong and charismatic enough to take charge. Listen-" He forced a smile. "Everything is going to be alright. I will return in three to four days with the Council's taskforce. We will deal with this. Until then, I want you to stay inside after sunset."

He put a keychain on the table and straightened up. "Be careful."

With that last warning, he walked out of the door and left them alone. Buffy glanced at Willow's untouched liquor, grabbed the glass, and downed it all.

She looked so small, so vulnerable and it suddenly struck Willow. As much as she was the slayer, Buffy was also a sixteen-year-old girl. Frightened and clueless in the face of a situation far out of her grasp.

"Could you come with me home?" Buffy addressed her own knees with the question.

Willow didn't hesitate for a second. Movie night meant candy, soda, and cuddling. None of which sucked.

"Of course."

It was getting chilly outside as the December loomed ever closer and Willow draped her arm across Buffy's shoulder both for warmth and comfort as they walked towards Revello Drive.

They'd told Mrs. Summers about Buffy being a slayer a couple of days earlier and though it seemed to be progressing past the first stages of denial and shouting matches, they still had a long way to go.

* * *

The acrid smell of smoke. That was the first sign that something was wrong. Willow first felt it two blocks away, carried to them by the cool November air.

Turning a corner, they saw a light a short distance away.

Buffy tensed at the sight, muscles taut like those of a panther about the pounce.

They took a shortcut through a neighbour's yard and carefully peered through the thick hedge.

A desperate wail left Buffy's lips at the sight before them. The light came from her house, violently ablaze and encircled by vampires. They were laughing and jeering, making jokes amongst themselves.

Rule number one of slaying, according to Buffy, was not to die. There was no way they could do anything about all those vampires and not die.

A triumphant cry was heard from the other side of the house and a moment later, Darla came dragging a struggling woman by the arm. Mrs. Summers was dumped unceremoniously at the Master's feet, but quickly stood up again, back straight.

"Mrs. Summers." The Master smiled, an all-together frightening sight. "I was wondering if I could have a word with your daughter. Is she in?"

Joyce spat at his feet. "She's out killing your kind."

He contemplated her in silence for a moment. Meanwhile, Buffy nudged Willow's shoulder and pointed out a route for them to sneak closer. There was a shed in her garden with two entry points. Maybe if they got closer and something somehow distracted the vampires. They slowly started making their way in that direction, heads low.

"Yes. I imagine she is."

He walked around her in a circle, hand at his chin, pondering some mystery unfathomable.

"You do not know where she is. If you did, you would not tell me, either way... No. You are a brave woman, just like your little slayer."

The Master walked another lap around her.

Willow closed the door of the shed behind them and followed Buffy as kneeled by the other one and peered through its glass window. There was a can of petrol for the lawnmower, but no matches or lighters.

"Buffy's going to kill you. Every single one of you." Her voice shook, but Joyce still stood her ground. The Master grinned.

"I wonder, though," he said. "Could she? Do you think she could kill her own mother?"

Understanding crossed Mrs. Summers features and for the first time, she couldn't hide how frightened she was. Then, inexplicably, she smiled, too.

"She won't have to."

And before anyone had time to stop her, she pulled a silvery six-shooter from the back of her jeans, put it to her temple and pulled the trigger.

* * *

The loud bang of the firearm and Willow's hand hastily slapped over Buffy's lips was only barely enough to muffle her cry. Feeling the slayer was about to do something stupid, Willow jumped at her, arms around her neck and legs meeting at the small of the slayer's back like in an overenthusiastic hug.

She knew realistically that the gesture was mostly pointless. She didn't weigh enough to even slow the slayer down, but she would at least be harder to shrug off.

"Please, Buffy. Stay. Don't go out there. She wouldn't have wanted you to-"

A hand flew to her throat and coiled itself around it.

"Please, Buff-" Willow couldn't breathe, couldn't speak. She looked into Buffy's eyes and saw nothing but darkness in them.

She fumbled for the hand constricting her windpipe on reflex, but did not reach it before falling backwards and landing on her ass.

Gasping for breath as quietly as possible, she stretched across the stone and grabbed hold of Buffy's ankle. She'd sworn she wouldn't let her get hurt, and as long as she breathed she'd keep trying, no matter how futile it seemed. If the slayer was going anywhere, she'd have to drag Willow along for the ride.

But Buffy did not try to go anywhere. She stood there, stock-still, peering through the glass. Last Willow had seen, the vampires had been in full retreat, but she couldn't see anything from where she lay. When Buffy finally spoke, it was in a frighteningly neutral voice.

"We need to go. Giles showed me a safe house just outside of town. If they knew where I live, his house is probably next."

* * *

They did not speak much over the next hours. Willow's legs felt numb under her, but she did not voice any complaint. She couldn't bring herself to even look at Buffy except in passing glances. She'd given up on comforting the blonde during the first hour.

Because they had to sneak their way all across the city centre and take several detours, they didn't reach the safe house until a little while after daybreak.

It must've been a really nice little two story British-style cottage at some point, but had since been left there to get overgrown by vines.

Unlocking the door with the keys Giles had given her, Buffy took the lead inside.

The first floor consisted of a fairly spacious living room with a fireplace, a much smaller kitchen and a bathroom. Upstairs, a single bedroom and a study waited.

Willow insisted that she take the couch, citing experience from crashing on Giles' for so many weeks. All the furniture had been covered up in sheets, for which Willow was grateful. They'd definitely need to some cleaning the next day if the place was to be habitable, but at least she wouldn't lie in a inch of dust.

Slipping beneath covers found in a upstairs cupboard, Willow closed her eyes. But she didn't fall asleep. Every single bone in her body screamed and ached with exhaustion, but her mind was still awake, still spinning.

It was a deathly-silent night and soft sobs could be heard from upstairs and Willow suffered helplessly. Just about to when she'd decided to have another go at comforting Buffy, the crying subsided. Soon, soft steps from naked feet could be heard down the creaky stairs and then along the floor, finally coming to a halt just behind her.

A few moments of breathless waiting later, the covers were lifted and a warm body snuggled up against Willow's back.

A tentative hand trailed along the bruises on her throat.

"M'sorry, Will. I didn't mean-" She took a deep breath and Willow felt it against the back of her neck. "I'm really sorry."

Well, what was she supposed to say? Willow really didn't know, but patted Buffy's hand to show that she was awake and listening.

Buffy moved even closer, tearstained cheek resting against Willow's, arms encircling her and hands finding themselves on her stomach where they traced patterns at random.

Warmth began to spread through her. Stupid, stupid hormones.

Slowly, so very slowly, Buffy moved her caresses higher. A small part of Willow knew that she and Buffy really shouldn't be doing this. Not here and most definitely not now. But that part was quickly shot down and the shame and guilt stored in the back of her mind, likely to pop up later.

A hand found her breast and gave it a gentle squeeze. A thumb located her nipple and lips her earlobe. Willow expelled a harsh breath, pushing her body against Buffy, who shamelessly began to move against her in turn.

Another tell fell from Buffy's cheek and down Willow's. They rearranged themselves, Buffy on-top. Legs tangled and lips met in fiery kisses. Hands pushed away or ripped clothes apart, desperate to reach skin.

Yet more tears fell on Willow's cheek.

They shifted a bit and a warm thigh slipped in between Willow's, pressing down right where she needed it. She raised her own leg in turn, clueless on how to progress, but eager to please.

The underwear her leg met was damp and the feel of it sent a surge of excitement through her body.

"You're the only thing," whispered Buffy, taking her lips and teeth off Willow's earlobe for a moment to breathe hard on it. "The only thing left... All that's left worth breathing for."

"I-" Willow swallowed. It was a good moment for an "I love you." but she couldn't say it.

Buffy kissed her soon thereafter and Willow lost grasp of time. The only thing she was aware of was Buffy's body and her own, moving together, sweat mingling as they both raced toward release.

Willow got there first, crying out and clinging to the slayer's lithe frame when the feeling overwhelmed her. She was vaguely aware of Buffy gasping out her name as she too climaxed.

A minute of silence followed where they just lay still. Willow rested her head against the blonde's chest and listened to her slowing heartbeat, for once feeling safe.

And then, quite softly, Buffy started crying again.

* * *

The London office of the Watchers Council was an old sturdy beast of a building which had stubbornly outlasted two world wars.

Its main conference room was centred around a handsome heavy oak table and the tall windows offered a beautiful view of the Thames in the light of the morning sun.

With it's wood panels and wall-to-wall carpet, the room had a warm feeling to it.

Giles could only hope that their reception would be as warm. Though, judging by the look on Quentin Travers' face, it was unlikely. He cleared his throat. "Times is of the essence, so I'll try to be quick. The Master has risen in Sunnydale and is establishing himself there. I am of the opinion that we need to strike hard and immediately before his hold of the city becomes too strong."

The was some muttering and clinking of china as people set their cups of morning tea down.

While the council was led by Quentin Travers, he was by no means in the position equivalent of a dictator. But he did hold a lot of sway in these circles. Unfortunately.

"And you are sure of this?" Quentin asked Giles, slowly.

"Yes."

"You have seen him with your own eyes?"

At this, Giles, smiled stiffly. "If I had, I'd be dead. Buffy saw him. We had earlier seen several members of the Order of Aurelius in town."

"Which ones?" Roger Wyndam-Pryce had been a formidable man in his youth. But as loyal as he was to the cause, he was also narrow-minded and at times, overzealous.

"Darla. Buffy killed Luke."

Quentin Travers cleared his throat and stood up. All murmuring died out.

"What you have to understand, Rupert, is that our resources are limited. There are demons everywhere on this planet. Sunnydale already has a slayer and that is as big a commitment as we can afford right now."

Giles turned his back to the table and under the pretence of looking out of the window, tried to calm himself. "I understand how she might just be a weapon to you, Quentin, but she can't do this all on her own."

"If she can't deal with the situation at hand, then maybe the next slayer will, or the one after that. I know this sounds callous to you, but if we were to send in the task-force, in the end more people would die."

All thought of calm forgotten, Giles crossed the distance to the table in three long strides and slammed his fist into the table.

"They choose this! Buffy had it forced upon her."

Quentin held up his hands in a placating gesture. "Have faith in her, Rupert. If the situation deteriorates further, we will look into the matter again and reassess the situation."

Nobody protested this decision, and Giles knew that he had lost. He could shout and rage like a petulant child all he wanted - it would not change things.

"Then I must be on my way."

Giles collected his briefcase from the leather chair he'd put it in. He needed to return to California.

"On that topic, Rupert..." Quentin had his beady little eyes fixed on him. "It is obvious you lack perspective in regards to your slayer. I think, for both her sake and your own, that we need to find you another assignment."

Giles, who'd been halfway across the room, stopped dead. "I am going back to California. If you want to sack me, be my bleeding guest."

Slamming the door a bit harder than necessary, he left the conference room.


	7. The Beginning of the End

A/n: Unless it was made clear by the recently added chapter names, this chapter is part one out of the two-part finish of Nightfall.

My thanks to those of you who have reviewed and helped out thus far. As well as those about to. You know you want to press that review button. ;)

* * *

The distant sky, though still dark, was beginning to turn a purple hue of lavender in anticipation of the coming dawn. Birds were chirping and a girl came stumbling into the small clearing.

She had a pretty face, even though it was currently bruised and dirty as well as sporting cuts from branches. Her clothes were torn too, several shallow cuts ruining her sweater and jeans.

She gripped a long sword in her hand and the fingers curled around it's hilt were sticky with scarlet blood.

Coming to a halt, she glanced forlornly at the sky, the hope of salvation that was coming, then at the still dark trees surrounding her.

She could see well enough, but the sun itself wouldn't be out for a while longer.

"I know you're out there!" She called, voice cracking. A twig snapped under the weight of a boot and she hastily raised the sword above her head, at the ready.

"You're fading girl!" The shout ended in a cackling laugh that echoed eerily through the trees.

"Come and kill me, then!" Even as she cried out her defiance, her arms shook with the effort of keeping the sword aloft. She wouldn't be able to keep this up for much longer. If that vampire made it over to her now then maybe it'd slip up in it's arrogance and she'd get a shot. But if it didn't, she'd pass out from sheer exhaustion and blood loss before it even got to a fight.

The sound of a blade meeting flesh echoed across the woods and a few moments later, another girl stumbled into the clearing.

She was as beat up as the first and limped heavily. As soon as she got a closer look at her friend, she gingerly crossed the last few yards as fast as was possible for her, favouring her left leg.

"They're onto our scent. We'll have them on us in less than a minute." Her sharp green eyes softened momentarily. "You're bleeding."

The statement was disregarded.

"How many?"

"Ten, maybe twelve." She paused a beat and shrugged helplessly. "Maybe lots more."

They settled back to back, peering through the darkness for what was to come. And came it did. Bright yellow eyes slowly started to pop up in the shadows, more than ten for sure.

"How much longer till sunrise?"

It hardly mattered. They wouldn't be able to make any kind of a stand here.

"An hour, give or take."

Definitely not that long.

The shapes had become clearer now, fangs glinting menacingly.

It was the end. No escape and no hope to manage much of a fight. The only thing they could do at this point was to take a few of the vampires down with them.

"I love you, Will."

Willow swallowed down the lump in her throat that had formed as the finality of the words hit her. Neither of them had ever had the courage to speak them before.

"I love you too," she whispered in return, wishing her hands weren't busy holding the sword.

But as weak as she was getting, she'd need them both. She didn't even dare to glance in Buffy's direction.

They were going to die here. The only thing they could do was to choose how they wanted to meet their end. Willow didn't want to die like a scared little girl, even if that was exactly what she was at the moment. Maybe if she didn't act scared then Buffy wouldn't be either...

She forced a casual tone of humour into her voice.

"Whoever gets most of them gets treated ice cream, okay?"

Though she couldn't see it, she felt reasonably sure Buffy was smiling.

"You're on."

Maybe she could do it herself... They stood back to back. Buffy might not realize, might not see it coming. She could make the death clean and spare her friend of suffering. Whatever happened to herself afterwards seemed less relevant.

No. There was not way she'd be able to cut Buffy down, be it mercy or not.

The vampires were only three yards away now, closing in on them in a tight circle. It wouldn't be a fair fight in the style of your ordinary Jackie Chan movie where the bad guys would wait politely for the hero to turn around to deal with them. They'd simply use their superior numbers and mass to their advantage and pile on top of them.

Willow recited a few well memorised words in Japanese and the blood on her hand and the hilt of her sword shone bright blue for a moment. The light crept up the blade like a mass of tiny caterpillars and then focused itself into five little glyphs.

Willow Rosenberg took a deep steadying breath.

* * *

_The present_

When Willow woke, they'd slept through most of the day and afternoon. A few feeble rays of light still poked through the window, making Buffy look like an angel where she lay, golden blonde hair spread out on the one pillow.

She looked calm. At peace. But Willow knew full well that it wouldn't last. Nothing that beautiful could be permanent. Nor was it.

A few minutes later, Buffy began to stir. She cracked her eyes open and observed Willow where she lay, using her chest for a pillow.

For a single wonderful moment, Buffy smiled wistfully at Willow. Then, like a dark consuming shadow, reality dawned upon her with merciless finality.

Her bottom lip quivered and her eyes began to well up with tears once more.

Despair tore at Willow's innards like claws and her eyes started to water too.

She blinked and swallowed, forcing herself to calm down. She needed to keep a level head now, if Buffy couldn't. Needed to comfort her. Like a- friend? Lover? Girlfriend?

Whichever applied wasn't important. Buffy needed her right now.

"Shh, Buffy..." She said softly. "It'll..." She couldn't say it would be alright. Whether the pointless gesture the words constituted would help or not, she physically couldn't.

Cause really, it wouldn't be alright.

Buffy slithered out of her grip and walked out towards the spot where sunlight pooled in from the window, standing there stark nude.

Would hugging her be pushing her luck?

Willow took a leap of faith and followed, wrapping her arms around Buffy from behind.

The little blonde still shook with every sobbing breath she drew.

"We'll get them," Willow promised her softly. Her voice took a sharper quality, low and brimming with venom. "We'll kill _every last one_ of them."

Which, finally, made Buffy stop crying.

She still shook as she turned around and her eyes were still watery. But all the same, she looked at Willow with dark determination in her eyes.

"Yeah," she whispered.

The slayer relaxed in her arms and Willow slowly led her back to the couch and guided her down upon it.

"But we're going to be smart about it, 'kay?"

There was no reply.

"Okay?" Asked Willow, a bit louder.

"Alright," Buffy consented and grabbed her t-shirt off the floor where she'd discarded it.

The slayer's stomach growled in complaint, which was the first reminder that they hadn't eaten anything in roughly eighteen hours. Willow quite frankly hadn't noticed up until that point and didn't feel hungry as much as drained and weak.

"We've a few hours of daylight left," she said softly, gauging Buffy's reaction. "I understand if you don't wanna- Uh. Maybe I should go do it and you'll take it easy here?"

Buffy's reaction was immediate and sudden.

"No," she didn't raise her voice any, but there was an almost desperate note in it.

Her eyes had widened in fright like if Willow had told her the house was on fire.

"I'll come with you, just gimme a sec."

She turned away and then mumbled. "I don't want to be alone."

There was a light sniffle and Willow's heart broke a little.

"I'm not going anywhere," she vowed. Buffy's lips curved into half a smile, tentative and frail and it lingered as they both got dressed.

There was a lot to be done and only so many hours of daylight to do it.

Food was an obvious priority and it took them rather longer to collect it than they'd planned. Their first basket full of food, they realized as they were about to pay for it, wouldn't last.

As far as Willow knew, the house didn't even have a working fridge. So they ditched the milk and other perishables in favour of water, tinned food, a tin opener (which Buffy ran off to grab as an afterthought) and a couple of apples, to keep the doctor away, along with some general hygiene-related supplies.

They'd planned to check in on Giles place and pick up anything useful they could find. If it hadn't been burned down, that was. But in the end, they decided it wasn't worth the risk of getting caught out at night and leading someone back to their safe house.

They'd spent about half of the cash Willow had been given by her dad when he'd tossed her out. She had tried to pay Giles rent but he'd refused to accept it. citing that she most likely had better means of spending that money than him.

She owed him so much...

Ravenous, they both munched their apples down to the core and then stared longingly at the rest of their purchases.

"We should get going," Willow said, even as her stomach growled in hungry protest. "Before the sun-"

She shot a glance at Buffy, who was licking her lips clear off the sticky fruit juice.

The sight was... Distracting to say the least.

"Do I have something on my face?" The slayer gave the corner of her lips a particularly drawn out lick. Willow swallowed thickly. Her cheeks suddenly felt hot and heat flared in her stomach.

"N-no. Your face looks just like- um- your face - which is to say, all fine."

Buffy looked at her for a moment and then shrugged, clearly decided that she once again just wasn't making sense. They began moving back to the cottage with an awkward silence looming over them. Upon their arrival, Willow busied herself putting all the wares in their rightful place. Wherever she decreed that be.

When she was done, Willow brought out two cans of beef (or at least that's what the label claimed) and opened them up. There were no spoons or other kitchenware to be found, though, so she brought them out as they were along with one of the big water bottles.

Buffy sat in the living room couch with her legs folded under her, staring straight into the opposite wall. The slayer didn't pay Willow any heed until she sat down next to her and held out the canned meat.

The reaction was immediate. The blonde's pert little nose scrunched up in distaste and she grimaced. Reluctantly, she grabbed the food and eyed it as though it had killed her puppy.

Willow began to work on her own. Nothing spectacular, but as hungry as she was, it tasted as good as anything she'd ever eaten. She just tipped the can and gobbled it down.

By the time she'd finished, so had Buffy. Their eyes met in the crimson light cast through the grimy windows by the retreating sun for a brief moment.

Green eyes burning cold, Buffy stared at the incoming darkness. Whatever part of her the slayer was, it seemed to be sensing what was drawing closer, readying for it's chance to come out and play. Willow frowned. They needed to be smart about this. They had a single safe house left, no allies and the option of running wasn't one she thought Buffy would appreciate her voicing. They'd have to fight. But if they went out in the night half-cocked, they wouldn't last long.

"We need to talk," she said, getting firm grip on Buffy's hand and squeezing.

The blonde's eyes narrowed.

"What about?" She clearly tried for casual but came off sounding defensive.

Willow furrowed her brow, thinking. How was she supposed to phrase this?

"I understand that you want revenge... And hey, I'm all for it. But we agreed earlier we'd play it smart, right?"

Buffy frowned.

"You said we'd play it smart," she corrected.

"Yeah," Willow agreed. She glanced at Buffy with worried eyes, swallowed and continued.

"But we're not gonna be able to do much in ways of revenge-y stuff if we're both dead."

Her attempt at reason was met with sagging shoulders and a lowered head.

"Yeah. You're right."

Willow put her hand on Buffy's shoulder.

"So... Maybe we stay in tonight. Then we get started tomorrow. Gonna be a whole lot easier killing em if they're sleeping, right?"

Buffy shrugged in resignation and fell back against the sofa's cushions with a tired groan, eyes drifting shut.

Willow couldn't help but to lean over and brush a lock of the girl's honey blonde hair behind her ear.

For a brief moment, Buffy's lip quirked up into something like a smile.

Willow took that as a good sign and moved in closer, leaning her head against the slayer's slender shoulder.

"We woke up a few hours ago," Buffy said quietly, absentmindedly playing with a lock of Willow's hair. It felt divine. "We're not gonna fall asleep, yunno."

"Huh? Oh- yeah... I guess."

A few suggestions on how they might tire themselves out came to mind and Willow blushed.

She glanced at Buffy and their eyes met. The very air of the room suddenly seemed to be heating up. Gulp.

Willow nudged her head closer to Buffy's neck. The girl still smelled a little bit like smoke, a little bit of sweat. Not enough of either for it to be off-putting.

But... Even though her entire body tingled in anticipation, she forced herself to get up from the couch.

"I found a broom in the kitchen... Could you check if the water's working?"

Buffy stared at her blankly for a moment, then nodded. Her voice was kind of husky when she spoke.

"Yeah... Of course."

They set off with their separate chores. Buffy returned a little while later to confirm that they had water, but that the heating didn't work.

She stood, hands on her hips, watching Willow move around the room. Once she was done, there was a big pile of grime in the corner of the room by the door.

Willow put the broom up against the wall, sighed and bent over the touch her toes, grunting in satisfaction when her spine gave a little pop.

She straightened up, no pun intended, and felt something soft against her back. Willow tried to turn, but arms had already snaked around her body, keeping her in place.

Warm lips pressed against her throat and she shivered in pleasure.

Her body, which had initially gone rigid, relaxed in recognition of the lips and the soft touch.

A soft purred "Mmm" slipped past her lips.

Warm hands slipped under her shirt and greedily sought her breasts, cupping them through the cotton of Willow's bra.

"Is this okay?" Buffy asked in a whisper. Her lips closed on an earlobe and her teeth entered the playing-field with gentle little nips.

Even as she asked, the slayer ran fumbling fingers along rapidly puckering nipples.

Willow attempted to say "Yes" but merely managed a needy little mewling sound.

It seemed to be sufficiently clear because Buffy's right hand descended a moment later, trailing soft skin until an obstruction in the form of denim blocked her path.

It seemed too much of a complication. The slayer's hand cupped her firmly through the jeans and Willow's knees buckled. Only by placing both her palms against the panelling of the wall did she find enough leverage to stay upright. The soft brown lacquered wood was smooth.

Which was good, cause splinters, kinda a mood-breaker.

Buffy seemed to finally have located the button of her jeans and deftly undid it one-handed.

"So beautiful," she murmured, lips tugging at an earlobe. Willow would've liked to say something. Maybe be witty... Or return the compliment. But she mostly shuddered and rocked against the hand dipping inside her panties.

Buffy's exhalations on her ear were heavy pants and tickled with warmth on the flesh that lips, teeth and tongue had worked on.

Sex up against a wall. Kinda kinky. A giggle burst through her lips at the thought.

Little her, who woulda thunk?

"Kinda in the dark here, Will. Literally even."

Willow could feel the back of Buffy's hand against her butt as the blonde stroked herself fervently.

"A bit higher." The slayer obliged and Willow moaned. "Tiny bit to the left..."

"There?" Buffy asked

"Right there," Willow confirmed, eyes drifting shut at the flaring pleasure.

The room was silent for a few minutes, save for the occasional moan or sigh and the increasingly heavy breathing.  
The climax came in several sharp bursts of ecstasy that turned Willow's legs into jell-o.

Sighing, she sunk to her knees on the floorboards, bringing Buffy with her.

She could still feel the blonde's hand moving and the strong arm was still wrapped around her body, keeping them close enough to make fitting a sheet of paper in between them a tough chore.

Willow wriggled out of her grip, grabbed the dainty little arm Buffy was using by the wrist and pulled it out of the pants despite whimpers of protest.

Then she kissed Buffy and replaced the hand with her own. The blonde arched her back and Willow followed her through the movement to latch her lips to the exposed neck.

It didn't last long. Within the minute, Buffy was shuddering beneath her.

Exhausted, they lingered in the floor to catch their breaths.

If the weight of Willow's body bothered Buffy, she didn't let on. She merely lay there on her back, looking up with a pensive look.

Her lip quivered, but she didn't cry. Willow pressed a kiss to the tip of the blonde's cute little nose and they shared a brief smile.

Tired in a comfy kind of way, Willow didn't realize that the smile was fake. Not until she woke up on the couch in the middle of the night to find Buffy gone.

For a second, she feared her friend had gone out hunting and rushed to the door.

She was just about to pull it open when she realized Buffy's sneakers were on the doormat.

Worried, but no longer terrified, she kept searching the house until finally, she found Buffy in the upstairs bedroom, clutching a pillow to her chest, eyes red and puffy.

Willow hesitated in the doorframe.

"Do you want to be alone?" She asked gently.

Buffy considered her for a moment, then shook her head.

"Can I come in?"

The ghost of a smile and a nod.

She sat down on the cold dusty floor next to Buffy, put an arm around the girl's shoulders and waited. Within a minute, the blonde had her head on Willow's shoulder.

"It hurts," Buffy mumbled a good while later. "Everything. Just walking around, eating, shopping. It all-"

She cast an almost frightened look at Willow.

"But with you-" She hastened to say. "When you're there, with me, close... It doesn't hurt as much."

Willow smiled at Buffy's blush and gave shoulder a squeeze.

"Anytime," she vowed.

* * *

Dawn. It came slithering across the horizon, a monster Willow really didn't want to see and couldn't vanquish. It meant it was time to get up... Which she really didn't want to. She'd been awake through the night, too worried about Buffy waking and running off to get any more sleep.

That probably made her clingy... Oh well. Who could blame her?

The blonde currently lay behind her under the covers, soft delicious curves and hard muscle feeling sublime where it was pressed up against Willow's back.

She watched the sunlight for a little while, then closed her eyes again. They should get up, get going. But Willow hadn't the heart to wake Buffy.

Good things rarely last, though. At least not for the two of them. Within thirty minutes, she felt Buffy stirring, her body tensing and relaxing a couple of times as she stretched her limbs out.

A soft moist kiss touched Willow's cheek, accompanied by a soft and shy "Hi."

"Morning," Willow responded, smiling as strong arms snaked around her body to hold her.

She felt somewhat dirty for being happy, all things considered, but couldn't help it.

It was a magic moment, at least for her. One so good that it just couldn't last.

And it wouldn't. Though she didn't know it yet, Willow Rosenberg would not live to see her eighteenth birthday.

She let it all last just a few moments longer, then said.

"We should probably get going."

"Mm," Buffy murmured, nudging Willow's shoulder with the tip of her nose.

"Now-ish."

Buffy groaned in complaint, but dragged herself out of the bed.

They had an apple each for breakfast and stashed haphazardly chosen canned food into sports bags along with swords and other necessities.

It was a respectable walk to town and it gave them enough time to decide on what to do.

As far as plans went, it wasn't overly complicated or intricate.

Step one: Locate vampires.

Step two: Kill the heck outta them.

Buffy had more experience hunting than she did, but it was mostly straightforward. The older vampires might have property bought with wealth accumulated over centuries.

But most resided in clichéd and easily accessible locations such as crypts and basements. Anything that offered some measure to security and protection from the sun.

The occasional bum might stray by, but hey, that was just a bonus for the undead. Everyone loves a free lunch.

Over the hours of the morning, they went from one derelict building to another. The most exciting thing to happen before lunch was when they broke into a place where a group of junkies had set up shop.

A man who looked like he was pushing fifty but probably wasn't a day over thirty-five swung a bat at Willow and with reflexes honed by hard practise and experience, she tumbled out of the way.

It's not as easy as one might think to throw a punch at another human with the intention of hurting them.

The man's arms were nearly skeletal where they poked out from the faded black t-shirt and both his forearms were covered in old needle-marks around the veins.

Demons had been one thing, but the man was kind of pitiful and Willow hesitated for a fraction of a second. It was enough for a second swing of the bat directed at her head.

Buffy stepped in, catching the wooden instrument one-handed without so much as flinching at what should've been enough force to break both her hand and arm.

She did not seem to appreciate what had happened. She didn't lose control, but coldly tore the bat out of the man's hands, snapped it in half and then proceeded to beat senseless him with the pieces. She didn't hit him hard. Not by slayer standards, at any rate. She didn't break any bones. Nor did she stop until he ceased struggling and surrendered to the sweet oblivion of unconsciousness. Willow more or less had to pull her out of there.

Not knowing what else to do, she decided that it was time to take a lunch break.

Buffy frowned, looked at Willow and then her hands and the specks of blood that covered them.

"He tried to hit you," she said dully.

"Yes," Willow agreed. "But he didn't."

"He could've hurt you," Buffy insisted, eyes flashing darkly. She glared at the building, a hundred yards away now.

They'd found a small playground no sane parent would ever let their child visit. It smelled faintly of cat droppings, but that was still an improvement from the rest of the area.

Willow gave the swing she sat on some speed while she waited for Buffy to use the can opener.

"But he didn't," she repeated.

Buffy didn't look angry any more as much as ashamed and worried.

"I kinda lost it," she said a little while later, when her food was gone and the can thrown on the ground.

"Yupp," Said Willow with a satisfied little smirk. She mimed taking notes mid-air. "A hungry slayer is a grouchy slayer. I learn stuff every day."

Buffy grinned a little and they both got off the swings, heading towards the bench a few feet away where they'd put their stuff.

Willow paused on the way to pick up Buffy's discarded trash, making sure to toss it into the trash bin along with her own.

They found the first corpse of the day in the second building they checked. It was a couple of days old and the skin had taken a sick greying pallor. It stank.

Willow had about three seconds to muse on the crappy timing before her stomach heaved and sent her rushing to the nearest corner to vomit violently. Sometimes, their job sucked.

Buffy barely reacted at all. She glanced over her shoulder as Willow kept on retching.

By the time she straightened up, the blonde was on her knees in front of the body on the floor.

She turned the deceased man's head left, then right, peering at his throat, shoulders tensing noticeably when she spotted something. Yatzi. They'd found vampires.

Willow got to her feet, spat on the floor and pulled out her sword. There was water in her bottle she longed to wash her mouth with, but it would have to wait.

They stalked through the house, wincing each time the floorboards creaked beneath their feet, step by excruciatingly slow step.

When they found the first vampire, Willow initially thought it was another corpse. But though it didn't breathe, nor move in the slightest, it was different.

It looked like a young man, mid-twenties by Willow's estimate. He was pale, but not unhealthily so... He didn't smell and there was blood on his lips.

She took a step in his direction, but stopped when she noticed Buffy's hand, held up and clenched in a fist. It meant 'Stop'. She did.

The window had been covered with a large sheet of brown paper that was being held in place by scotch tape.

Buffy's face set in grim determination and she tore the paper away.

For a drawn out, painfully long moment, nothing happened. Willow's heart pumped hard, sweat beaded on her forehead and her hands shook. Then the man's skin began to sizzle.

While they'd waited for a reaction, Buffy had moved over to the door they'd come through. Willow stood two yards away, ready to hit the vampire from the other direction.

By the time the vamp awoke and shot to it's feet, it was already aflame. It screamed piercingly, an utterly inhuman sound. Whether it was in pain or fright wasn't really possibly to tell. It was cut short when the two swords hit him.

Buffy who was considerably faster, both to react and otherwise, hit it first, severing the snarling head from the rest of the body. Willow's stroke came a split second later in the region of the abdomen, but hit nothing but the dust of the already disintegrating vampire.

They observed their work a moment. Buffy rolled her shoulders uneasily and Willow got the feeling she still burned for a fight. A proper one.

"Let's go check the basement."

The slayer blinked and seemed to regain focus.

"Yeah," she agreed.

The basement was padlocked. Buffy gave it a look, then tore it off without difficulty.

Willow didn't know whether she ought to be afraid or laugh at the sight the light pooling in from the floor above revealed to them.

The room downstairs was completely barren save for two honest to God coffins and some tools over in a corner.

She paused, cast Buffy a glance and mouthed.

"Are they frickin' kidding?"

The slayer shook her head ruefully.

"These guys are like the creationists of the undead."

Buffy brought out a bottle of Holy Water, uncorked it and put the lid in her pocket. She then raised her sword one-handed and waited for Willow to push the lid off the coffin.

It proved harder than she'd thought it'd be. The thing was heavy.

Grunting, she managed to get it out of the way, revealing the figure of a woman wearing an old-fashioned black dress.

Buffy splashed her face with the Holy Water and the regal but rather unappealing features changed, morphed, until they were monstrous and barely recognisable

Buffy took the head off with a one-handed swing of her sword. At the same time, the lid of the other coffin burst open and came flying in their direction. Buffy shielded herself with her arms and Willow hastily tried to dodge to the side.

Something grabbed onto her ankle and she fell with a shriek of panic, hitting the dirt floor hard.

She'd managed to break the fall with her arms, but the rolling motion Buffy had taught her hadn't worked because whatever had tripped her s held on to her foot.

She kicked viciously at it and heard the crunch of bones breaking under the weight and force of her boot.

Another hand shot up from the dirt, grabbing hold of her wrist, the one in which she held her only weapon.

The earth which had previously seemed solid stirred. Willow's glance fell on the shovels and then the coffins. The other vampire had jumped out of his and Buffy met him head on.

Meanwhile, as Willow fought to get out of the iron grip keeping her sword hand immobilized, two more vampires rose from the ground.

"Buffy, watch it!"

The slayer lashed out a blind kick behind her, catching one of the sneaky vampires in the jaw, sending him sprawling into a corner. She got dangerously close to behead the Anne Rice wanna-be and forced him to jump backwards. Which gave her enough space to move on the second which had been trying the same sneaky approach as his buddy, who lay dazed in a corner. The back-hand he swung at her cost him most of his arm.

Meanwhile, Willow looked around desperately for something to use to free herself.

The vampire holding her down from underground would be getting free any second, too. Her left foot touched something and Willow spotted the flask of holy water she'd dropped.

With a little bit of effort, she got it between her feet, tensed the muscles of her legs and stomach and lobbed it in the direction of her chest. She overshot it and got it square on the nose. Ouch.

Eyes streaming, she grabbed the flask wildly and slammed it all into the hand crushing down on her wrist.

Her own palm got cut by the shards of glass. But on the bright side, the vampires hand sizzled like if it had been sulphurous acid. The grip slackened and she rolled away.

Earth sprayed into her face as one of the shovels hit the ground half an inch from her face.

Shit, shit, shit.

Willow rolled again and another blow narrowly missed her. She got into a crouch and parried a third with her sword, though the force of it sent her tumbling back into the hard concrete wall.

Before she ducked yet another hit, she could see Buffy, down to a single vampire now, her face alight with the rush of battle.

The metal head of the shovel hit concrete and a shower of sparks erupted from the point of impact. Willow attempted to hamstring the vampire as she rolled past, but didn't do much more than cause it some pain.

It seemed like Mr Subterranean wasn't getting up. Willow stomped down hard on the hand without taking her eyes off the blonde vampire with the shovel.

Hang on. She stomped down again, then tilted her head sideways.

"Harmony?"

The vampire paused, frowned (which looked very odd with the bumpies) and then lost the . It was Harmony Kendall alright. Her face split in a vapid but bright smile.

"Hi, Willow!" She exclaimed. There was another hiss as Buffy took care of the last of her vampires.

Powerless broken fingers brushed against Willow's ankle. She thrust the tip of her sword at them, and they withdrew.

"Uhm. Hi Harmony." She looked awkwardly at the other girl. She dress she wore was covered in dirt and completely ruined, but had probably been nice before her death.

"How come you're a vampire?"

Harmony frowned stupidly. Buffy walked up to Willow's side, her body loose and relaxed now that the danger was pretty much over.

The slayer's hand rested dangerously low on her back.

"I'm a vampire?" Harmony asked, surprised stark on her face as if she'd been asked to point out Australia on the map. Then she turned thoughtful.

"I suppose that does explain why I wanna kill you and suck your blood," she mused.

Willow raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, that's kinda what vampires do."

"Totally," Harmony agreed. "Just you wait till I find Cordy. We're gonna have so much fun with you."

She frowned again at the sceptical expression the other girls were giving her and seemed to realize, for the first time, how much danger she was in.

"You could totally come with too, Willow," she tried to wheedle. "I know Cordy was being a bitch about you being a lesbo and all, but if we're vampires I'm sure that won't matter as much, right?"

She looked from one girl to the other and tried again.

"Right?"

Willow took a few steps forward. Harmony swallowed visibly.

"Uhm. You could do whatever you want to me," she tried pitifully. "Anything. Just don't kill me."

Willow's stomach did a small nauseous flip and she grimaced in disgust.

Then she gathered herself... and cut Harmony down. She'd planned some kind of comment like.

"That's for breaking my barbie in first grade!" But couldn't say it.

Buffy cleared her throat.

"Er- Will." She gave the wriggling fingers a pointed look. "I think you missed one."

Willow looked down at them.

With a bit of effort, Buffy dragged the vampire up enough for her to be able to dispatch it.

They did some digging, but didn't anything more, dead or undead. Once upstairs, Willow rinsed her mouth as well as she could with some water, drinking the rest. It still didn't get rid of the sick feeling to her stomach that Harmony's pleading had left.

Buffy put a sympathetic hand on her shoulder.

"It's not easy," she said softly. "Killing someone you knew. Not even a complete cow like Harmony."

Willow chanced a glance at Buffy, who looked grave. She reached a conclusion quickly.

"You had to kill someone you knew too, didn't you?"

The slayer nodded.

"Before I moved to Sunnydale... My dad."

She swallowed and turned away. When she spoke again, as they walked out of the door, her voice was forced into a light and cheerfully conversational tone.

"We really should've let Harmony go kill Cordelia for us."

They got washed up in a Doublemeat Palace bathroom and shared some vanilla ice cream before setting off in the direction of Giles apartment.

It was still untouched and the both of them spent a little of leisure time in the familiar space, at first showering, then relaxing on the couch watching the TV.

Buffy found some bandages, cleaned and wrapped up Willow's hand and then brought the rest of the first aid kit along with them.

Thinking back on how vulnerable she'd been without her sword, Willow picked up a couple of knives from the weapon's chest. Buffy eyed a heavy looking axe for a little while, then put it in her bag along with a couple of stakes, knives and weapon maintenance tools.

They raided his fridge for something to eat and put everything else that wouldn't go bad within a couple of days or out in room temperature into their bags.

Willow located some disinfectant in the bathroom and hesitated a couple of seconds before taking the deodorant too. Slaying monsters was a stinky business, after all.

Heaving the now considerably heavier sports bag up on her shoulder, she walked out towards the living room again, passing by the little notice board of sorts Giles had kept on the wall.

Willow gave the calendar a second glance, counted the days and stared blankly at it.

"Oh," she said to herself, doing the math again just to make sure.

"What?" Asked Buffy, dumping her bag on the floor with a solid thunk.

"Today's my birthday." She'd completely lost track of things ever since Buffy had come to Sunnydale.

"I can't believe I forgot."

She was seventeen. _Tick. Tock. Tick... Tock_.


End file.
